tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23784183885502435412017-02-08T23:54:34.611-05:00mamatotsTanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.comBlogger128125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-53967084483877684212016-02-03T14:36:00.001-05:002016-02-04T17:20:54.382-05:00Emmeline Laura, a birth storyThis post is one that I have anticipated writing for many, many months...years. Putting into words the details of my <a href="http://mamatots.blogspot.com/2011/05/norah-annabel-smiths-birth-part-two.html">first birth</a> was part of healing from an extremely traumatic and trying experience, and although it's been nearly 5 years since then, I have awaited writing out another birth story with such apprehension, for fear that I would be writing out another similar story. &nbsp;This birth could not have been more different. While I know that just like each child, each birth is entirely unique, I almost didn't want to believe anyone when they said this one could be, would probably be, completely different. That I could have the healing birth story I so desired.<br><br>Before I begin with the day of her arrival, I feel that I also need to write for a moment about where we were in our lives that brought us to the point of having our rainbow baby. As many of you know, I had a miscarriage on 1/3/14. It took me by surprise, but it's also one of the things that happens in life and you move forward, carrying it with you as you go. There's no other way. But, a year passed, and we were not pregnant again, not sure we were ready. Life tossed some punches at us during that year as well, and it seemed best to just wait it out a little longer. In April 2015, I found out quite by surprise that we were going to be parents again. It was the start of a tumultuous but very rewarding pregnancy, because in the end, we have you, our sweet Rainbow Baby. After every storm, there is a rainbow of hope, and here you are.<br><br>Emmeline Laura, here is your birth story.<br><br>Your estimated due date was 1.1.16. New Year's Day. A fitting day for a birthday; a day of "rebirth" every year, when everyone chooses to start anew and try to reshape themselves into better versions of who they were the year before. We prepared for a holiday arrival, spending much of December anticipating that you might come early, and we wanted to be ready. We wanted everything set for Norah as well, so that the impact it might have on her at the holidays would be as smooth as possible. However, week after week went by, and I found myself still pregnant on your due date. I went to see the midwife each week, and each week she was encouraged and reminded me that I would in fact, not be pregnant forever.<br><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YbwxV-u-coc/VrJNWfWqV1I/AAAAAAAACZA/FsVeBEG35Jw/s1600/945855_10106061109654483_7982102755723300850_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YbwxV-u-coc/VrJNWfWqV1I/AAAAAAAACZA/FsVeBEG35Jw/s400/945855_10106061109654483_7982102755723300850_n.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken around noon on your birthday, 1/8/16</td></tr></tbody></table><br><br>I went in for a non-stress test on what turned out to be your birthday, 1.8.16, to monitor your movements and to see if there was any reason you were in distress. For half an hour, the monitor picked up every slight movement of yours, tracked your heart rate, and checked for any contractions. I wasn't having any, and you were moving and bouncing around wonderfully. The ultrasound tech pretty much assured me that we would not be meeting you that day, and sent us home to keep waiting. I was really pretty disappointed, but your Daddy and I went out to breakfast and then came home to spend more time with your sister while we waited.<br><br>I sewed up a few things for you, and made a pillow that afternoon to pass the time. Around dinner time, I needed to clean up the table so we could eat, and we decided to order pizza. I stood up from the table about 7:15 PM, and felt a weird flip-flop sensation, and I thought it was possible that was my water breaking, but I wasn't sure. I went to the bathroom and nothing seemed to be up, so I grabbed the vacuum and got to work cleaning up the fuzz from the pillow making along with all the dog hair! It was as I vacuumed that I realized it was probably my water that had broken after all, and went to check it out; it was! I nervously told your dad he should order that pizza if he wanted, because we were going to have to get moving pretty soon as it seemed you wanted to be born that day after all! After saying it out loud, I realized my heart was pounding with anxious anticipation...I knew I was ready to meet you, but wasn't sure I was ready to go through birth.&nbsp;<div><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PIO12FuOCLs/VrJN1ERXaPI/AAAAAAAACZE/n5horcmdC7Q/s1600/12540695_10106061617232293_762176162189145587_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PIO12FuOCLs/VrJN1ERXaPI/AAAAAAAACZE/n5horcmdC7Q/s640/12540695_10106061617232293_762176162189145587_n.jpg" width="507"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny headbands I made for you on your birthday&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br>He left to get pizza about 7:35, and my contractions were about 5-6 minutes apart at first. I called triage to let them know, and started to time things to see how it was progressing. By the time Daddy got home about 25 minutes later, labor was definitely in full swing. I was contracting every 2-3 minutes for about a minute long each time. Triage finally called me back about 8:30 PM and I decided we should head in. I had been on my hands and knees alone in the bathroom for about 10 minutes, and definitely needed all my focus to get through each one. &nbsp;<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Looking back now, I think I was starting to hit transition before we left the house. I was getting hot and irritated by having any clothes on, and I definitely didn't want to wear a coat or shoes, even though it was a January night outside. We had the car packed up already from earlier in the day, so we grabbed the last essentials and headed out the door. I had a moment of almost feeling tearful when we told Norah we were finally leaving to go to the hospital to meet you; her sweet face lit up and she was so very excited!</span></div><div><br>In the car, things got serious pretty quickly. We put on some music from the playlist I had made, and we listened to<div>Jack Johnson for most of the drive.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">&nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I remember thinking at several points that I couldn't understand why the contractions seemed to peak at the beginning, rather than start gradually and build up, but they were starting out strong and sharp, and then dulled down. &nbsp;In hindsight, I think this was definitely transition. I was hanging on the handle above my seat, and I kept saying "I can't believe how much these HURT!". Daddy said lightheartedly "maybe try swearing, sometimes that helps!", so I did, but it sure didn't take away the painful sensations! Your dad was trying to be helpful and calming, and tried reaching for my hand, but I shook him off and said "I don't want anything touching me!". I also unbuckled my seat belt and told him not to get in an accident. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">&nbsp;At this point, he said "should I start speeding now?"...I think even he could tell things were going more quickly than either of us expected.&nbsp;</span></div><div><div><br>By the time we arrived at the hospital about 9:30, I was contracting nearly every minute, and HARD. As it was late evening on a Friday, the valet service was accessible only after going inside first, which took a few minutes to figure out. I stood outside leaning over a wheelchair for a few contractions, then inside the double doors. It took us several minutes to get through the lobby, and I think I freaked out a few people, but we made it up to triage. &nbsp;We had to wait for a few contractions before they got a room for us, so I stood leaning forward against the wall. &nbsp;As soon as I walked in the first room, the clerk heard me and watched me and said "Oh, those were awfully close together. Let's actually go back into this other room" and walked us back to the first room in the hall. I realized as we walked in this was the room babies are born in; the baby warming table was set up, and I thought "there is no way they think this is happening that fast...I'm not having a baby in triage!". &nbsp;They told me to get a gown on, and I wanted none of it. I tossed my clothes off (they must have been strewn about the room, I did not care!) and they had to basically put a gown on me, which I ended up ripping off again. They monitored the heartbeat for a little bit, but before I knew it my body was starting to get "pushy" at the peak of contractions. One nurse asked if I was pushing, and I said "I think so, I'm not trying to!" and one nurse asked if my plan was to go without medications; I said "that's the plan". &nbsp;It is a good thing, because there would not have been time for an epidural anyway! &nbsp;The triage midwife arrived and said she'd check me; I was 8.5 CM already, about 2 hours after my water broke! She said she would catch my baby if needed right there in triage, but they were trying to get a room set for me first. At one point Matt noticed some blood on the floor, and the tension in his voice was palpable as he called a nurse over to see. She said it was totally normal, but I can only imagine from his experience that the fear of witnessing me lose so much blood again was very real. After that point, he seemed to be somewhere behind me for the rest of the birth...I only recall seeing his face a few times, but I knew he was there. &nbsp;I think he was truly afraid of watching another horrible thing happen, and just stayed where he could let the midwives be in charge and tell both of us what was happening.&nbsp;<br><br>The midwife on call, Anne Rosa, arrived shortly, and said they were ready to get me down to a delivery room. I tried to just bust out of triage, but they reminded me I needed to be in a gown. I literally rolled my eyes, and said "Fine, but make it quick!" while they tossed a gown on me. They asked if I wanted to walk or take a wheelchair. I couldn't imagine sitting, but they said it was a long walk, so we went for the wheelchair. They moved us very quickly down the hall, and Anne asked if I was still wanting to be in the tub, as she saw that in my chart. I said I did and they planned to run it when we got to the room, because I had no idea how much longer I would be in labor, and I knew from Norah's birth that I would never have gotten through without being in the tub. However, as soon as we got to our room, 9E-16, I pulled off my gown again and tossed it across the room (found it behind the couch the next day!) and hopped onto the bed. I was pushing on my own with every contraction at this point, and I heard one nurse say "don't push" and I panicked! But Anne checked me again and said there was the tiniest lip of cervix and she held it out of the way. &nbsp;Then, there were nurses trying to draw blood and start an IV in each arm at the same time. &nbsp;It was a little crazy for a few minutes, but soon everyone had done what they needed, and I told Matt I needed a pony tail because I could not stand my hair on my neck anymore. He got a hair tie and did it for me, and he apologize so sweetly because he said he gave me the "worst ponytail ever". Like I cared! &nbsp;Needless to say, there was no time for the tub.&nbsp;<br><br><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2wBs82dBffg/VrJOQCR99vI/AAAAAAAACZM/AKEcqB9EKhk/s1600/12523898_10106069965297703_5427155672243605736_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2wBs82dBffg/VrJOQCR99vI/AAAAAAAACZM/AKEcqB9EKhk/s400/12523898_10106069965297703_5427155672243605736_n.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a few minutes old, bright eyed, calm and alert in Daddy's arms<br><br></td></tr></tbody></table>I was facing the back of the bed, on my knees, and pushing that way for a few minutes, but Anne said she thought we should try side lying. As I turned around, for some reason I realized I didn't remember the midwife or RN's names, so I asked them and kept saying "sorry I didn't ask before!". They all laughed, given that I had been pretty busy from the moment we checked in. <br><br>We did side lying for a few minutes, but I just didn't feel like I had any leverage, and my leg with the sciatic pain was not comfortable that way at all. &nbsp;Then, on the monitor, you started to have dips in your heart rate. They put oxygen on me, and said you were doing ok, but they wanted to get you out quickly. I got scared for a moment, worried I wouldn't be able to get you out fast enough and I would end up in the OR again. The midwife said she thought you had a cord around your neck but you were doing OK between contractions, and she felt you were very close to being born. She had me flip into a reclined sit position, as this would be the fastest way to get you out. (Totally against what the physical therapist recommended for my sciatic pain, but at that moment we had to do it).<br><br>As much as you think you remember what birth feels like, I was still somewhat surprised at just how incredibly intense and painful moments of it can be! I didn't remember actually being aware of the feeling of Norah's head moving down through my pelvis, but I could distinctly tell where the edges of your head were as you moved down. I kept saying "I can't do this! I don't want to do this!". &nbsp;Anne helped calmly guide me in what to do, and even though it goes against what the mind tells you, pushing through the pain is the only thing that brought me closer to meeting you. &nbsp;Less than 20 minutes after getting in our delivery room, you were born at 10:20 PM. You had one loop of cord around your neck, and as soon as your head was born, Anne unwrapped it, and then your hand and arm came out along with your shoulder as the rest of you was born into my hands. I pulled you up to me, and I kissed your head and started to cry, so very thankful that you were here, safely, and the physical intensity of birth was over in that instant. Your cord was wrapped all around your body, but you were pink and crying and totally perfect right away. We let you lie on my chest for a few minutes, and your dad cut your cord once it stopped pulsating.<br><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RH7n00LSCko/VrJTJF4OxKI/AAAAAAAACZs/DKOJru65TC8/s1600/image3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RH7n00LSCko/VrJTJF4OxKI/AAAAAAAACZs/DKOJru65TC8/s400/image3.JPG" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your very first photo, just moments old.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br><br>Your Apgar scores were 9 and 9, and you weighed 9.19 lbs, 21.5"...exactly the same stats as your sister! While Daddy followed you around the room, Anne got busy trying to get the placenta out right away this time. Pitocin in my thigh, and within 5 minutes or so, we had it out, without any issues like last time. No retained parts, no hemorrhage, no OR. I was actually interested in looking at it, when Anne checked it over, and it is such an amazing thing to see an entire organ my body created, solely to sustain your life. &nbsp;I was so relieved, and so thankful for the way your birthday unfolded, all on its own. I kept thanking all the nurses for being so amazing, as I really felt they helped me bring you here safely. I was just incredulous at how fast it all went. &nbsp;I high-fived Anne as she was leaving for the next birth, and was just so impressed with how calm and supportive she was during such an intense birth. &nbsp;Our L&amp;D nurse, Tiffany, stayed with us for 2 hours, helping get the rest of the things we needed checked off (since we didn't have time for most of it when we came in!). &nbsp;We had such a great, easy going, supportive team with us, and I couldn't have asked for a more redeeming birth experience.<br><br><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qGLFNdMpn88/VrJOQK2UFaI/AAAAAAAACZQ/N1INmplZ7lk/s1600/12540956_10106099408328633_259397539277802153_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qGLFNdMpn88/VrJOQK2UFaI/AAAAAAAACZQ/N1INmplZ7lk/s400/12540956_10106099408328633_259397539277802153_n.jpg" width="366"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy singing your first song to you ; Too Ra Loo Ra</td></tr></tbody></table><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zvy7AcpzJAQ/VrJOQNKzzaI/AAAAAAAACZI/NwZMUAPUGys/s1600/12507269_10106068191028353_2028075942760412815_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zvy7AcpzJAQ/VrJOQNKzzaI/AAAAAAAACZI/NwZMUAPUGys/s400/12507269_10106068191028353_2028075942760412815_n.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your stats</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TV6xeNsfN4g/VrJOQndenxI/AAAAAAAACZU/spPVIQTrUGw/s1600/1934548_10106068191008393_7545084989761178151_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TV6xeNsfN4g/VrJOQndenxI/AAAAAAAACZU/spPVIQTrUGw/s400/1934548_10106068191008393_7545084989761178151_n.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swaddled and snug, your fresh red cheeks are so kissable!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br>In the weeks that have passed since your birth, I have replayed it so many times. I still can't believe it happened so fast, after we waited so very long to meet you. &nbsp;Nothing about your birth could have gone any better, and I truly feel so proud of myself for bringing you into this world. &nbsp;Birth is the most transformative process I have ever experienced, and now that I have two completely different ones to compare, I know the feeling of triumph when you have an entirely empowering and exhilarating (albeit intense and kind of terrifyingly fast) birth. The intensity of birth emotion is a high wave to ride anyway, and I have been beyond grateful in this postpartum phase that I feel like such a different person than I did in the early weeks after Norah's birth. I'm physically stronger, have more energy, and coming out of a non-traumatic birth vs. the kind of situation I had with Norah has made a world of difference in my ability to be truly present as a mama.<br><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fU2dGgjloik/VrJTQG5lK5I/AAAAAAAACZ0/epbRY3p-ij0/s1600/image2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fU2dGgjloik/VrJTQG5lK5I/AAAAAAAACZ0/epbRY3p-ij0/s400/image2.JPG" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You have your hands in your mouth all the time, and you found your thumb right away. I'm sure you were sucking them on the inside too!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zLkfJsbGyzk/VrJTQAMrvJI/AAAAAAAACZ4/JcJVstSl5-g/s1600/image4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zLkfJsbGyzk/VrJTQAMrvJI/AAAAAAAACZ4/JcJVstSl5-g/s400/image4.JPG" width="300"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out in the morning waiting to meet your sister, grandparents and aunt Tryn and uncle Liam</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br>I have so many thoughts on the "fourth trimester" and postpartum phase, especially as this is likely my last time to experience the newness of a baby of my own, but I will save those thoughts for another post, or this one will be 10 pages long.<br><br>Emmeline Laura, I love you with a whole new place in my heart that burst open the moment you landed earthside. You will forever be my last "baby", but please revel with me in your newness and let this next few months pass as slowly as possible while I soak up all there is to you, right now, the tiniest you'll ever be.<br><br><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVA13p3K7qw/VrJQHIz8szI/AAAAAAAACZg/B5fWghx9h_c/s1600/12507265_10106068191402603_3541637990320937462_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVA13p3K7qw/VrJQHIz8szI/AAAAAAAACZg/B5fWghx9h_c/s400/12507265_10106068191402603_3541637990320937462_n.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting your big sister for the first time. She is so in love with you!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br><br>Love always,<br><br>Mama</div></div></div>Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-53593624026267860662015-09-30T22:51:00.001-04:002015-09-30T23:01:12.777-04:00When a friendship fades<div><br></div>As social beings, we have all experienced the rise and fall of close relationships over the years. Playmates in elementary school that made way for cliques and teams and groupies in middle school. The in-crowd vs the uncool in high school. The BFF who has known you the longest, and the ones you suddenly realized were way more into the same band than you ever would have guessed and never thought you'd wind up being friends. &nbsp;<div><br></div><div>It's a certain rite of passage to experience losing a friend over something silly, or to have those friends who fade in and out of life as circumstances change for both of you. It's an experience that we have all come to know throughout our formative years when someone is no longer meeting our needs, and it's time let it go. &nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>But the further we get from forming those lifelong friendships with people who have known us forever, the harder it is to open up and trust another adult to join our inner circle, to see who we "really are" in our grown up life. Finding someone later in the game who just seems to "get you" is special.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>As women, I think we give more deeply, we invest more emotionally in our friendships than men do. &nbsp;When we finally do trust someone with our vulnerable selves, we expect that it will be worth the investment because it has been crafted so carefully and with such deliberate action. &nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>But what if that person eroded the trust you built? What if that friend you carefully selected and groomed before letting her in fully, suddenly decided to go in another direction...without you? It can be a unique and incredibly lonely experience to lose an adult friendship. One created after the frivolous nature of childhood, never had to be sustained through puberty, after college, after choosing your careers. One where you both decided to go deeper, because you valued each other for who you are as women, at the point in time you are both standing in.&nbsp;</div><div><br></div><div>Losing a friendship that became a part of your daily life as a adult is like rubbing salt in a fresh paper cut...it stings with a surprising jolt when you least expect it to. &nbsp;When you hear a song you danced to together on a rare night out, or you long to eat at that restaurant again, but it feels like cheating not to go there with her. When your child wonders where "her friend" has been, and you have to choose between honesty and saving yourself the wave of emotions when you answer. When you look into your Timehop folder and realize you won't have any new memories going forward that include photos of you together. &nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When you see the remainder of the bottle of her favorite drink you bought to keep at your place for her visits, and know you'll never drink it without her.&nbsp;</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">When you see someone driving a car like hers and think for a moment it might be fun to run into each other, catch up, and then think about all the reasons why that would actually hurt more than not seeing her...to realize you have been expertly left out of her new life. To know that part of the reason is the new life growing in me, who she will probably never snuggle and love the way she did my first.&nbsp;</span></div><div><br></div><div>As a full t<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">ime working mom, making friends as an adult has been a difficult feat for me. I feel like an outsider to my SAHM friends, and to be honest I'm a little bit jealous of them. &nbsp;They have time to cultivate relationships to carry them through the long days of being home with kids...and I trudge off to work, missing my baby, wishing I had more time for myself, my spouse, to meet my own needs. &nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I have my "core friendships" of life well established - those girls from home who have known me forever, and who will always be there to mark the passage of time along the way; those from college who met me as I was becoming more "me" than I'd ever been before. Those from grad school who saw me through existential growth and self reflection, there with me as I watched my parents divorce as I was on the cusp of marrying my own husband. Those friendships have the ties of time holding them down like anchors. But then, those friends move and have families and careers to chase and lives to solidify. And we come back to each other, to mark the time, to remind each other of the anchors when the waves seem high, but then we go back into our own daily lives.&nbsp;</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So what about the friends we seek to buoy us through the daily realities of life as we know it? The new "BFF" to call/text, make plans with on a Thursday, routinely see on the weekends, stay up too late on a weeknight chatting with? To share the truly awful parts of a difficult career choice with when the going is tough. Who sees you through some</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">pretty bad nights, and for whom you've done the same. &nbsp;The one who loves your kid, who enjoys making last minute plans with you, who loves to let you cook while she cracks you up in the kitchen? The one who gets <i>you</i>, when it feels like you've almost forgotten what it's like to be an independent person aside from being a wife, a mom, a career. &nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What happens when we let someone in, and sooner or later, without the history and the anchors...they walk out again?&nbsp;</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It's a new kind of loneliness. When it feels</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">as though someone you chose, not because of history or shared time, but because of who they are in the here and now, used up all that you invested and gave and offered, and decided to move on anyway? Nothing hurts quite like that for awhile. And it's true, pain eases with time, and new people will come and go, but sometimes? You just really miss your friend.&nbsp;</span></div>Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-36739278067964929912015-07-01T15:22:00.002-04:002015-07-01T15:22:41.172-04:00Pregnancy Sciatica, Pelvic Girdle Pain, SPD...whatever you are, please go AWAYSince about 9 weeks this time, I've been graced with a somewhat new and unwelcome guest - shooting, searing hot pain in my right butt cheek and down the right leg into my foot. It started with a sneeze (I feel like that could be a whole book chapter on post-partum life). My entire right leg went numb and I instantly fell to the floor. If it sounds dramatic, it's because it was. I laid there for a few minutes hoping to collect my shit and get up and head out the door for work. Well, that did not happen. Fast forward to almost 5 weeks later, and it's a daily presence that is seriously, legitimately, a pain in the ass.<br /><br />I am going to see the chiropractor weekly or every other week. I've gotten a full massage. I ice. I heat. I rest. I walk. I stretch. I use pillows to prop when lying down. But without fail, the pain is there every time I re-position, stand up, put weight on my right foot, sit down for too long, cough, laugh, blow my nose, bend over forward, roll over at night, put on pants, sit down to pee. Basically, it never goes away. It's getting really old already, and I'm only just 13wk6d.<br /><br />If that's the only complaint I have this entire pregnancy, I'd be ok with that. After the last two times, I'm ready for a road without any major issues. The nausea (which was passing and not awful at all this time) is nearly gone, and other than some weird soreness or other passing things, I have very little to be bothered by other than this constant butt/hip/leg pain.<br /><br />I know that the sciatic nerve is being irritated, either through compression of the piriformis or from a vertebrae/disk issue. I don't know that it's true sciatica, it could be pelvic girdle pain or some form of SPD like I had last time. I'm willing to try whatever I can do for relief, because this is already taking a toll on my emotional health and I'm constantly fatigued (both from pregnancy and from being in constant pain/fear of pain). I'm trying mindfulness techniques and using the skills I've been learning in a year of therapy for anxiety to try and deal with this to the best of my ability, but man, sometimes I just want to complain and have someone commiserate about how unpleasant the pregnancy process can be!Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-43426581273407297502015-06-24T12:45:00.000-04:002015-06-24T12:45:04.287-04:0012w5d and new pics of Baby Smith 2.0Yesterday we got to see little Smith 2.0 again on ultrasound for our first trimester screen. Little stinker was being quite stubborn and did not want to wake up or move for a while, so we had to coax it out of the little ball it was in! After much cajoling, we were able to get the baby to flatten out enough to get the measurements they were looking for, and get a good estimate of growth. Looks like baby is on track and measured right at 12w5d, which was exactly my estimate! The nuchal translucency and my blood work results indicated a very low risk profile for any of the trisomy diagnoses (1:10,000) which is a giant relief. I also had been screened last time and I'm not a CF carrier, so we can rule that out for this baby as well. It's nice to have an ultrasound in the Fetal Diagnostic Center without needing a consultation and potentially difficult news from a high risk OB for once! Even though we did see our good friend Deb Berman, MD, who has been involved in my OB issues from the beginning, and she reassured us that as of yesterday, everything is looking great and she is hopeful that will continue for us this time around going forward. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rpAfEx4fN54/VYrdkr6RnqI/AAAAAAAACQU/JKlNSuGPuiM/s1600/nubshot3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rpAfEx4fN54/VYrdkr6RnqI/AAAAAAAACQU/JKlNSuGPuiM/s400/nubshot3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />Up until now I've had a pretty solid feeling that this is just going to be a boy. Everyone in real life (other than my mom who stands firm that it's a girl) has guessed boy, and the pregnancy has been so very different that I just assumed it had to be a boy. But...because I'm HORRIBLE with surprises, and I just love to putz around and guess about things like this, I've put up some of the pictures on a few forums for people to guess the sex based on clues in these early images. So far...100% <span style="color: magenta;"><b>GIRL</b></span>&nbsp;guesses! I'll still be SHOCKED at our next scan if they confirm it's a girl, but it's really fun to guess and wonder about the possibilities either way! I guess the "nub theory" is what people are guessing by, and here are the shots they are using to guess:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XxAOXIX7G0k/VYrdrxHx01I/AAAAAAAACQg/cdw71K0uQ34/s1600/nub%2Bshot1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XxAOXIX7G0k/VYrdrxHx01I/AAAAAAAACQg/cdw71K0uQ34/s400/nub%2Bshot1.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2zXs-XY_lGc/VYrdr_dEleI/AAAAAAAACQc/wjKHdKqiGxQ/s1600/nubshot2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2zXs-XY_lGc/VYrdr_dEleI/AAAAAAAACQc/wjKHdKqiGxQ/s400/nubshot2.jpg" width="348" /></a></div><br />We didn't get as clear of shots as we did with Norah, but evidently there is enough shown for people to give very consistent guesses! Now we just have to wait another 7 weeks to confirm at our next scan on 8/15...I'm sure it will go by quickly ;)Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-346339058178289312015-06-06T21:38:00.000-04:002015-06-06T22:17:28.904-04:00The one that comes after...Most of the things I've read on the subject of pregnancy after miscarriage are meant to be reassuring. Most women go on to have healthy, normal pregnancies even after one ends sadly. But the way our society treats miscarriage, it's hard to talk about, and there are few articles that actually highlight the emotional toll it can take, not only at the time of the miscarriage, but long after. Into the next pregnancy. Perhaps even more anxiety arises when getting pregnant again, because all of the fears about the unknown resurface, and especially if there was not an identified cause of the loss.<br /><br />I lost our second baby January 3, 2014. It was early, around 6 weeks. And at the time I brushed it off, telling myself it was best that it was over quickly, and I wasn't as attached. I hadn't known the sex. We hadn't thought of a name. We'd barely known about it, and then it was over. But as time went on, it settled in. A son or daughter we'd never know, not in this life. A sibling for Norah she'd never meet. A piece of us that would never join our family in this world.<br /><br />I'm currently 10w2d with our 3rd pregnancy. And from the moment I saw two lines on the test this time, I felt afraid, anxious, worried. I worried about the possibility of it ending so soon, I didn't want to get attached to the idea of being pregnant again, let alone acknowledging that we could have another child in our family by the end of the year. I worried about all of the things that could be going wrong in the very earliest stages of development, right under my skin, and I'd have no control over the outcome. I was afraid to bond to the baby, because honestly I just assumed there was a greater than average chance that this one would end, too. &nbsp;I was immediately aware of how tenuous the entire thing is, and how stressful and all consuming and terrifying pregnancy could be for me, given my experience the last two times. Then, the fears of another <a href="http://mamatots.blogspot.com/2011/05/arrival-of-norah-annabel-smith-part-one.html">traumatic and life threatening delivery</a> loomed over me as well. I don't want to go through that again. I don't want Matt to go through that again. I can't bear to think of Norah losing her mama, for something we could have chosen not to do again. I felt responsible for causing not only myself, but my family, potential grief and anxiety, for wanting to do this again, and for getting pregnant at all.<br /><br />Fast forward to this week. We had our first prenatal appointment on Monday, my 32nd birthday. We talked about my history, reviewed my birth records and pathology reports and discussed risks of recurrence. We were able to see the baby on a quick ultrasound, and confirm a little beating heart and a fully formed teeny babe. It was a relief. The past 5 weeks of anxiety felt lifted, and I just felt a calm sense that this time would be different. This baby was here to stay. This baby, as surprising as it was to get here, this baby I wanted and needed to be in my arms eventually.<br /><br />Then, Friday, my midwife called to discuss my lab reports. My glucose was normal, my A1c was normal, indicating the gestational diabetes is still at bay. But, I had tested positive for a rare antibody called the Kell antibody (my titre level is currently 128). I either acquired this through one of the multiple blood transfusions I had after the post-partum hemorrhage, or was sensitized through my pregnancy with Norah (if she is +Kell). Matt now needs to be tested, and if he is positive for the antigen (heterozygous would give 50% and homozygous would give 100% chance the baby will also have the +Kell antigen) we will need to transfer from the midwives to high risk for extensive monitoring. If the baby has the antigen, we will need to have ultrasounds and special dopplers done every 2 weeks to monitor for a condition called fetal hydrops and severe fetal anemia, both of which could be fatal either before or just after birth.<br /><br />Essentially, it is similar (although more severe) to Rh incompatibility. &nbsp;One difference is that with Rh factor incompatibility, there is a shot the mother can receive (rhogam) which greatly improves outcomes. There is no such treatment for the Kell antibody. &nbsp;The Kell antibody in my blood crosses the placenta and enters the baby's body, and if the baby has the Kell antigen, my antibodies are essentially fighting off the baby. &nbsp;It makes it difficult or impossible for the baby to create its own red blood cells. So, the baby could have a severe lack of red blood cells, and become significantly anemic, requiring intrauterine blood transfusions. One of the risks is that these babies are often delivered early, between 33-37 weeks, because the risk of doing further transfusions after that point outweigh the risk of early delivery.<br /><br />This could all be a non-issue, if Matt tests negative for the antigen. From what I've read, about 45% of kell+ moms got the antibodies from a transfusion, and the other 55% were sensitized from a first pregnancy with a Kell+ baby. So, it's about a 50/50 chance that this baby will have the antigen. If it's negative, I believe we will still monitor serial titres on me throughout the pregnancy, and if they continue to rise there may still be a reason to monitor the baby for anemia. All we can do right now is wait. Have Matt's blood tested, and wait.<br /><br />It makes me so sad and angry that I have another stressful condition to monitor, once again, in this pregnancy. My relief from Monday was fleeting, and all concerns I had about bonding to this baby have instantly gone out the window. I am now all-in. I want this baby to make it through this crazy thing, to be in our arms this winter, for Norah to meet and love and play with. It just seems unfair that one person should have such bad luck when it comes to pregnancy. Sure, I can GET pregnant. I only have a 50/50 record of staying pregnant so far. And I have a 0% batting average for uncomplicated, low-risk pregnancies. I feel like I am just not made for this. If this pregnancy ends in any other way than a baby we take home with us...I am not sure I'm ever doing this again. I don't know that my body is capable, and to be honest, I don't know that my heart is either.<br /><br />I'm not a spiritual or religious person, but I believe in the power of shared strength. Please, if you wish, think good thoughts, pray if that's what you do, but send your good energy out into the universe for this one thing to go OK. For the test results for Matt to be negative, and for this to proceed as an uncomplicated, low risk pregnancy. It takes a village, doesn't it?<br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-32355917397149061992015-01-13T23:25:00.001-05:002015-01-13T23:25:08.498-05:00Mirrors usually tell the truthWhen I glanced at my reflection tonight, quickly darting over the parts I know too well that I'd rather not focus on, and going to the ones I can usually find something kind to say to myself about, I couldn't help but think "Who the hell is that woman?". The dark circles seem almost physically imprinted under my eyes, like the shadowy hollow that is left after being really ill. The color I might normally have swiped over my cheeks and lips was long gone. The mascara flaking off my tired eyelashes. The "clean" shirt I changed into after work already stretched out, wet from tantrum splashes and a writhing, wet kid at bathtime. And, my first thought was not "man, I need more sleep" but more along the lines of "surely I don't look <i>that bad</i>&nbsp;in real life, right?". <br /><br />And then, my thoughts were broken up by a still-screaming preschooler who has been having one tantrum or another for nearly the entirety of the 2 waking hours on either side of the work day I've been with her. And, I would say this is just a particularly rough day, everyone surely has these moments...but lately it's been the norm for her to scream/cry/whine/hit/kick/thrash/go limp/go ninja for somewhere in the neighborhood of 2-4 hours of the day, as long as she is in my presence.<br /><br />Instead of meeting her needs with kindness, with strong, welcoming, supportive arms, with all the right words to soothe her tears and build her confidence like the mother I always imagined I would be, I meet her screams with my own. I mirror her tears with the same salty, burning hot ones from my own eyes. I swear. I shout at my spouse. I seethe with red-hot anger at myself for the fact that I have absolutely no idea what the hell to do.<br /><br />When I screamed at her "YOU ARE MAKING ME SO F*&amp;%ING ANGRY" and her tiny reply through tears was "well you are making ME angry!"... I remembered that we tend to mirror each other, and what we see across from us is probably what the other is looking at, too. We butt heads because we are so alike. We are both seeking acceptance and love from the other. She needs me to keep on being here for her, even when she's terribly hard to be around. I need her to keep on being here for me, and reminding me that she does still need me, and that she keeps asking for my love, even when I'm not so great to be around, either.<br /><br />So, yeah, next time I glance at my reflection and think "who the hell is that exhausted, burned out, glazed over woman?"...the mirror probably is telling the truth. It's me. I'm just a mama, trying her best, plain and simple.Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-75656325182135076542014-05-21T23:29:00.004-04:002014-05-21T23:29:57.330-04:00Don't bend me or I will breakI haven't written in nearly a year. I have so many stories that need to be told, stories that my life has written out in those many moments. Stories that make me laugh, and stories that took a piece of my heart when they marched on. But there's no way to catch up on life lived out, only stand in the present, looking ahead.<br /><br />And the present, it hasn't been the easiest place to stand. It's not that much of my story hasn't been told before, by working mamas, by wives, by those in professions wherein loss and heartache are the norm rather than the exception. But my own unique experience of those stories...it's an amalgam of the joy and pride I feel in being a mother and spouse, in having a career I should be confident in, and fear and insecurity about the uncertainties of the future, of my own success, value and worth to those around me.<br /><br />I have the beautiful privilege of walking with families through arguably the most difficult experiences any family will know. It's my job to be something for them that they cannot be for themselves. I've taught myself how to balance being emotionally present with them without shredding the tender pockets of my own heart...at least I thought so until this week. And like I've told myself for the past four years since the last one that brought me to my knees and almost put an early end to my career as a medical social worker, there will be others, surely, that will tap little cracks into the harder shell I created around that tender heart. &nbsp;Until now, it hadn't happened.<br /><br />But, now it has. There is a tiny little baby boy in our care who desperately needs a liver transplant. But his body is too sick, too septic and malnourished, to receive one right now. We can't even offer the parents the promise that we will do everything we know of to save him...because we know what to do but aren't in control of when that can happen.<br /><br />Today, as I walked into his room, his mother curled up in the hospital crib, cradling his tiny frail body in the curves of hers,&nbsp;as though she wanted to crawl inside his skin instead of him. I know that's what she's thinking, because it's exactly what I would do if my baby were in that crib instead. Giving her strength over to him, telling him to fight for something harder than anyone should have to in their whole life, certainly not at 4 months old. And watching her husband, a military man who is due to report back to base in 3 days, hold them together while talking to the physician and asking questions he must never have imagined he'd form words to ask...that harder shell I thought I'd built...started cracking wide open.<br /><br />Leaving that place at the end of the day, to walk out into the sunshine and play music in my car, drive myself to teach Zumba, to move and push my body to feel alive, to think about my family and what we will eat tonight. To know that my own baby has been missing me for 12 hours, and that is my biggest hardship today. The sense of caregiver guilt has become a battle I had forgotten about fighting. Why do I deserve the happiness and health my family has? Why isn't it my baby in that bed? Thank goodness it isn't...but what does that make me to think?<br /><br />These are questions I can't answer. They only bring more questions into my mind. Like, how am I going to go back there tomorrow...check the census and scan for his name. Will he be there? Will the conversation with family be one of relief that another night has passed and he's with them? Or will it be one of grief and loss and planning something they never wanted to plan in their lives? Will I hold them up, or will I break down too?<br /><br />These are the thoughts in my head this week. And then, just like that, I'm also thinking about whether the spaghetti stains came out of Norah's new shirt, and did I remember to brush her teeth tonight, and shoot the car needs gas before driving to work tomorrow. Oh, and she needs milk. Picking out my outfit for the day in my head...only to realize tomorrow that I can't find that belt, and that top isn't really clean. And, oh, will that sweet baby boy be curled into his mamas body tomorrow, or will she have to pull herself away from his tiny, puffy, line covered body for the last time? And, will I break, or will the shell hold this time?<br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-33657032004634760422013-09-06T13:42:00.000-04:002013-09-06T13:42:56.752-04:00Summer catch-upWell...the summer is over and I only updated this blog once! We really had some great adventures and made some wonderful family memories with Norah, now that she is getting old enough to actually talk about and recall things that happened longer than 20 minutes ago.<br /><br />We took a family trip to Boyne this July and Norah absolutely loved every minute of it! Rather than re-upload 800 pictures, I'll share the link to our photo album and if you want to flip through feel free :)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mypublisher.com/index/?e=OHm3Q8zJl3Q-TKWEZHY5cznYM0I9wXiV&amp;showForm=true">Boyne Vacation Family Album</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We have pent lots of time outside, riding bikes, playing on her slip n slide, taking walks, going to "the blue park" and generally soaking up as much childhood summer whimsy as we can. Mostly I've had my iphone handy for taking photos, so these shots are the best I can do for a taste of our summer:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wskFJRzEqxw/UioQxdaMO8I/AAAAAAAAB6c/mniMYm2WBY8/s1600/blue+park+slide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4p7j1f11EPg/UioQ0Tgf-xI/AAAAAAAAB7s/b1DECLOEHVY/s1600/golden+park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4p7j1f11EPg/UioQ0Tgf-xI/AAAAAAAAB7s/b1DECLOEHVY/s320/golden+park.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zpes3IbQChc/UioQ2EEnvNI/AAAAAAAAB8U/kxmfjq1OVaY/s1600/smores.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zpes3IbQChc/UioQ2EEnvNI/AAAAAAAAB8U/kxmfjq1OVaY/s1600/smores.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">S'mores by the bonfire</td></tr></tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--zjAnWsvNDk/UioQ1SsW2TI/AAAAAAAAB8o/tbvXzcySTzc/s1600/ice+cream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--zjAnWsvNDk/UioQ1SsW2TI/AAAAAAAAB8o/tbvXzcySTzc/s1600/ice+cream.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ice cream dates with mama</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wskFJRzEqxw/UioQxdaMO8I/AAAAAAAAB6c/mniMYm2WBY8/s1600/blue+park+slide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wskFJRzEqxw/UioQxdaMO8I/AAAAAAAAB6c/mniMYm2WBY8/s320/blue+park+slide.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--uh4USUCd8Q/UioQ1yjtoJI/AAAAAAAAB8I/_tWUohsYR7I/s1600/pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--uh4USUCd8Q/UioQ1yjtoJI/AAAAAAAAB8I/_tWUohsYR7I/s1600/pool.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Down the slip n slide</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8gv0h2ldxp8/UioQywTp_5I/AAAAAAAAB7I/KzTEO43NSto/s1600/duck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8gv0h2ldxp8/UioQywTp_5I/AAAAAAAAB7I/KzTEO43NSto/s1600/duck.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and a duck!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-paE4uvU7zc8/UioQwiP9FHI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/74BAXmWZ5CQ/s1600/bath1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-paE4uvU7zc8/UioQwiP9FHI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/74BAXmWZ5CQ/s1600/bath1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many bubbles!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TsG4RrOoPn8/UioQwnlWttI/AAAAAAAAB6M/VDhNeLPi9w8/s1600/bath+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TsG4RrOoPn8/UioQwnlWttI/AAAAAAAAB6M/VDhNeLPi9w8/s1600/bath+2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On my head!<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XpgjHd4C9uY/UioQxLE4JgI/AAAAAAAAB6g/StrnxbNf5hM/s1600/beard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XpgjHd4C9uY/UioQxLE4JgI/AAAAAAAAB6g/StrnxbNf5hM/s1600/beard.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and a beard!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tjENQi2yMZI/UioQyCFQQvI/AAAAAAAAB6w/4m1S-ImdLIo/s1600/bubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tjENQi2yMZI/UioQyCFQQvI/AAAAAAAAB6w/4m1S-ImdLIo/s1600/bubbles.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">oops!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eQ3jXrF1coU/UioQyWHoF-I/AAAAAAAAB7g/CKDGlQU8wLQ/s1600/daddy's+bday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eQ3jXrF1coU/UioQyWHoF-I/AAAAAAAAB7g/CKDGlQU8wLQ/s1600/daddy's+bday.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy's birthday cake&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka5MITsJ6Lw/UioQySIO0rI/AAAAAAAAB60/FwwiCFgJOEY/s1600/dog+doc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ka5MITsJ6Lw/UioQySIO0rI/AAAAAAAAB60/FwwiCFgJOEY/s1600/dog+doc.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Being a doggy doc</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3eqXB87uYwk/UioQ1kyRRrI/AAAAAAAAB8A/rzgAYMLZ9zE/s1600/leotard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3eqXB87uYwk/UioQ1kyRRrI/AAAAAAAAB8A/rzgAYMLZ9zE/s1600/leotard.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">new leotard for gymnastics, won't take it off (even slept in it)</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kk6sVBn5jIg/UioQzGragDI/AAAAAAAAB7E/84G2AASchb4/s1600/elbel+dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kk6sVBn5jIg/UioQzGragDI/AAAAAAAAB7E/84G2AASchb4/s1600/elbel+dad.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elbel Field band practice&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BQJvIuyHymc/UioQzoLwaXI/AAAAAAAAB7U/SsH9tWhvEpQ/s1600/elbel+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BQJvIuyHymc/UioQzoLwaXI/AAAAAAAAB7U/SsH9tWhvEpQ/s1600/elbel+mom.jpg" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-02TsqVb3MwA/UioQz6nPdXI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/pizyvDxnY74/s1600/game+day+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-02TsqVb3MwA/UioQz6nPdXI/AAAAAAAAB7Y/pizyvDxnY74/s1600/game+day+1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First game day, waiting for the band to march by</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-trWJnKRDDsQ/UioQwrV4ngI/AAAAAAAAB6o/6EgHtqhI9MY/s1600/band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-trWJnKRDDsQ/UioQwrV4ngI/AAAAAAAAB6o/6EgHtqhI9MY/s1600/band.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">there they are!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9LTWVYE2tXk/UioQ0f1hLII/AAAAAAAAB74/IOi3UkC_AC0/s1600/game+day+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9LTWVYE2tXk/UioQ0f1hLII/AAAAAAAAB74/IOi3UkC_AC0/s1600/game+day+2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so excited!<br /><span style="text-align: left;">&nbsp;</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWHy4nFhy_E/UioQ0ylxj6I/AAAAAAAAB7w/-ArxIhOqYJA/s1600/hair+cut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWHy4nFhy_E/UioQ0ylxj6I/AAAAAAAAB7w/-ArxIhOqYJA/s1600/hair+cut.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hairuts, haircuts! all around!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4NggjARSUpA/UioQ25LmKvI/AAAAAAAAB8k/1obyTuLKg_A/s1600/tea+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4NggjARSUpA/UioQ25LmKvI/AAAAAAAAB8k/1obyTuLKg_A/s1600/tea+party.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tea party with Mary Read's vintage tea set (she was like a grandmother to me growing up!)&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrRZArx2fJQ/UioQ2ZkO2pI/AAAAAAAAB8Y/E7eKfYcLOCo/s1600/tea+party+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nrRZArx2fJQ/UioQ2ZkO2pI/AAAAAAAAB8Y/E7eKfYcLOCo/s1600/tea+party+2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tea party with Julia</td></tr></tbody></table></div>Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-52611758956659213572013-06-23T09:42:00.001-04:002013-06-23T09:42:23.494-04:00Strawberry Jam 101<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, after picking 23 lbs of strawberries, one must decide what to do with some of that beautiful bounty. They were almost too pretty to cut up, but once I started I was on a mission.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-puS09MSCaJc/Ucbwh8So0yI/AAAAAAAAB2s/JGEgh9xWawc/s1600/IMG_9827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-puS09MSCaJc/Ucbwh8So0yI/AAAAAAAAB2s/JGEgh9xWawc/s640/IMG_9827.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The first step in making jam (or canning anything) is to gather your supplies. You need:&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">a large canning pot (preferably with a canning rack inside)</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">jar lifting tongs&nbsp;</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">clean mason jars with lid rings and new lid inserts &nbsp;</span></i><br /><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">whatever you plan to use to fill the jars. I didn't have a wide mouth funnel, but using a 1/2 c. measuring cup worked just fine. &nbsp;</span></i><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You need to sterilize your jars and utensils to be sure no bacteria gets sealed into your jars and ruins your jam (that would be a complete travesty!). &nbsp;I threw everything I would be using into the dishwasher and set to the sanitize cycle. &nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Next, to start making your jam, you have to make it in small batches or it won't set. &nbsp;I followed the proportions from the original Ball Canning recipe. &nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Per batch:</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>5 c. mashed strawberries</i>&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 box Sure-Jell pectin</i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>7 cups sugar (I know!)</i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>4 T. lemon juice</i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>1 t. butter</i></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br /></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Start by mashing up your hulled strawberries with a potato masher until you have 5 cups of fruit. Pour that beautiful mess into a large saucepan. &nbsp;</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m0ofKA_UfEM/Ucbzdtjp_PI/AAAAAAAAB30/emJ5X3Jh_JM/s1600/IMG_9830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m0ofKA_UfEM/Ucbzdtjp_PI/AAAAAAAAB30/emJ5X3Jh_JM/s640/IMG_9830.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Add a small pat of butter, which helps to reduce the foam produced as your jam cooks (which you will have to scrape off later, but this decreases the work at that step)</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aGOowsQdCqQ/UcbzdiPmdiI/AAAAAAAAB34/2eihcOW0iF4/s1600/IMG_9831.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aGOowsQdCqQ/UcbzdiPmdiI/AAAAAAAAB34/2eihcOW0iF4/s640/IMG_9831.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pour your pectin in, and whisk to be sure all clumps are dissolved. &nbsp;Add the lemon juice. &nbsp;Now get that strawberry pulp boiling! It needs to get to a rolling boil for at least a few minutes - the longer you boil it the more the fruit breaks down so if you want chunkier jam just let it go a few once it gets up to a rolling boil (this means you can't stir it down, it just keeps boiling despite stirring). &nbsp;Then it's time to add ALL that sugar...there are recipes that call for less, and you have to use a special low-sugar pectin, but for my first try I thought I'd go old school and do it the way our grandmas all did. I mean, jam isn't supposed to be sugar free, right?</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Once you add the sugar, bring it all back up to a rolling boil again. Let that go about 1-1.5 minutes once it gets there, and then turn off your heat. After it cools a few minutes, scrape off any foam that formed (but don't throw it away! It's still delicious, just doesn't look so pretty in your jars of jam. Just think of it as a sample.)</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While your jam is cooking, you need to multitask to prepare your jars. &nbsp;Get enough water in your canning pot to cover at least 2 inches above your jars. Put the sanitized jars on in there, and get the water simmering. This is to ensure that the glass and the jam are about the same temperature so when you fill them they don't burst!&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xEk0kOGRRY/Ucb5HMito-I/AAAAAAAAB4g/2Zd0Arp-VlM/s1600/IMG_9832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xEk0kOGRRY/Ucb5HMito-I/AAAAAAAAB4g/2Zd0Arp-VlM/s640/IMG_9832.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In another pan, get your lids in simmering water as well. The sticky part of the ring needs to heat up to get gummy enough to make a good seal. &nbsp;Be sure you have some metal tongs or a special magnetic wand to lift them out of the water when you need them. &nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cD5AvH_54PA/Ucb35qcNEgI/AAAAAAAAB4U/pzPFpMtYPOw/s1600/IMG_9833.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cD5AvH_54PA/Ucb35qcNEgI/AAAAAAAAB4U/pzPFpMtYPOw/s640/IMG_9833.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ok, so when your jars are ready, your jam is ready, and you are ready, it's time to fill them up and get canning! One at a time, take a jar out of the large pot using your jar lifter tongs, drain the water back into the pot, and set on the counter. Fill it with jam, then wipe the top of the ring off to be sure you catch any drips. &nbsp;If it seems like there are bubbles in there, you can tap your jar on the counter, but be careful because it's hot! Or, you can slide a knife around inside the jar. &nbsp;To be honest, I skipped both of these steps and it turned out fine!&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Next, get a lid out of the pan, center it on your jar, and put a ring on, screwing just enough to get some resistance (i.e don't screw it on super tight or you'll never get it off!). &nbsp;Repeat with all your jars until your jam is used up. &nbsp;Place them back into the large pot of boiling water, and be sure they are all upright and covered with water. Cover the pot and boil at a rolling boil for 10 minutes, and then take the lid off, letting them sit in the water for 5 minutes before removing them to equalize the pressure. &nbsp;Then carefully using your jar lifters, take each one out, and set it on your counter. Do not mess with the jars, they will seal and you will hear "pop-pop-pop" as those lids seal while the jam cools! Music to your ears after all that work :) If any don't seal, don't worry, just toss them in your fridge and they will last for weeks...if you don't eat it first.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XemR_Ev8uYk/UcbzdWlTH3I/AAAAAAAAB3s/OCptsFKRXoU/s1600/IMG_9836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XemR_Ev8uYk/UcbzdWlTH3I/AAAAAAAAB3s/OCptsFKRXoU/s640/IMG_9836.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WjWyQTWKqAE/UcbzdyBEh1I/AAAAAAAAB38/53GRWF0ewJA/s1600/IMG_9838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WjWyQTWKqAE/UcbzdyBEh1I/AAAAAAAAB38/53GRWF0ewJA/s640/IMG_9838.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-47620622712313308972013-06-23T09:02:00.000-04:002013-06-23T09:02:02.979-04:00Strawberry Picking We are in peak strawberry season in Michigan right now, and there truly is nothing sweeter or more perfect than a sun-ripened strawberry picked and eaten right there in the field. &nbsp;We decided to try and take Norah to the u-pick farm near us and see how she did this summer, and it was an absolute success! We went to DeGroots Farm in Gregory, MI and the picking was good, prices were great ($1.58/lb!) and the atmosphere was friendly and low-key. <br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y74xt3mofuI/Ucbu6c-gPkI/AAAAAAAAB1g/OmIRHNr1WBY/s1600/IMG_9800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y74xt3mofuI/Ucbu6c-gPkI/AAAAAAAAB1g/OmIRHNr1WBY/s640/IMG_9800.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />&nbsp;It seems that two years and two months is the perfect age for strawberry picking - she enjoyed eating the fruit, helping us load up the carton and dump it into the flat, she didn't whine about the heat or having to go potty or how tired she was or that her legs itched or... (like a few of the older kids in rows near us). <br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YCD6P6VwHQ4/Ucbu6n7ANrI/AAAAAAAAB1k/TPE2J-MQHXU/s1600/IMG_9813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YCD6P6VwHQ4/Ucbu6n7ANrI/AAAAAAAAB1k/TPE2J-MQHXU/s640/IMG_9813.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking for the red ones</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kR3o2pfcoRQ/Ucbu6c1E71I/AAAAAAAAB1c/tS_avhTDheo/s1600/IMG_9814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kR3o2pfcoRQ/Ucbu6c1E71I/AAAAAAAAB1c/tS_avhTDheo/s640/IMG_9814.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zOf45tdeDjc/Ucbu72mq86I/AAAAAAAAB10/MfShx3snWec/s1600/IMG_9815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zOf45tdeDjc/Ucbu72mq86I/AAAAAAAAB10/MfShx3snWec/s640/IMG_9815.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCg2D8iyjkI/Ucbu71FH5_I/AAAAAAAAB14/AORNhikiHJM/s1600/IMG_9817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCg2D8iyjkI/Ucbu71FH5_I/AAAAAAAAB14/AORNhikiHJM/s640/IMG_9817.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dedication to the cause, right there</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqlTqW0PMTE/Ucbu8FLFvNI/AAAAAAAAB2A/FisH8c0U9GQ/s1600/IMG_9821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RqlTqW0PMTE/Ucbu8FLFvNI/AAAAAAAAB2A/FisH8c0U9GQ/s640/IMG_9821.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZkZQwnOQOw/Ucbu8hVAI6I/AAAAAAAAB2M/XSHINtGb1no/s1600/IMG_9823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZkZQwnOQOw/Ucbu8hVAI6I/AAAAAAAAB2M/XSHINtGb1no/s640/IMG_9823.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3dk_hUEt7WQ/Ucbu81KgAMI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/M9A4KMG0qec/s1600/IMG_9824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3dk_hUEt7WQ/Ucbu81KgAMI/AAAAAAAAB2Q/M9A4KMG0qec/s640/IMG_9824.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SO juicy Mama! "Dis 'trawbewwy yummy!"</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>She also loved the small farm animals area with goats, baby pigs, chickens, and peacocks. &nbsp;<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kaBgsSJhfak/UcbxBa-wd-I/AAAAAAAAB3A/cCkhT628ytY/s1600/IMG_9803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kaBgsSJhfak/UcbxBa-wd-I/AAAAAAAAB3A/cCkhT628ytY/s640/IMG_9803.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They had 9 baby goats, and she was thrilled to be able to feed them!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55R5-EGbpPY/UcbxBE2ERZI/AAAAAAAAB24/69dO6jdbKOk/s1600/IMG_9804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-55R5-EGbpPY/UcbxBE2ERZI/AAAAAAAAB24/69dO6jdbKOk/s640/IMG_9804.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p_2jnA6buwQ/UcbxBFpHX-I/AAAAAAAAB20/ifSNuZxzu1M/s1600/IMG_9805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p_2jnA6buwQ/UcbxBFpHX-I/AAAAAAAAB20/ifSNuZxzu1M/s640/IMG_9805.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bf_0ao7yoU/UcbxCImTCHI/AAAAAAAAB3M/am8iICubI44/s1600/IMG_9806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bf_0ao7yoU/UcbxCImTCHI/AAAAAAAAB3M/am8iICubI44/s640/IMG_9806.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Af1okDW23eQ/UcbxCr0rElI/AAAAAAAAB3U/16nUIFPpNk8/s1600/IMG_9809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Af1okDW23eQ/UcbxCr0rElI/AAAAAAAAB3U/16nUIFPpNk8/s640/IMG_9809.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These guys are LOUD! One little girl near us goes "Hey, it's Kevin!" (if you've seen Up, that's the crazy bird they meet...peacock yelps totally sound like Kevin!)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8-zXsG190OM/UcbxChVpF6I/AAAAAAAAB3Y/tdap-teXFDU/s1600/IMG_9810.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8-zXsG190OM/UcbxChVpF6I/AAAAAAAAB3Y/tdap-teXFDU/s640/IMG_9810.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These goats just climb all over the place, Norah found it quite amusing!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><div>We ended up with nearly two flats - 23 lbs of berries! I'd say that's good work for two adults and one toddler in an hour and a half!&nbsp;</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zY2p9wrGAnk/UcbwhyAfC6I/AAAAAAAAB2o/ZFq1g8rXV10/s1600/IMG_9826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zY2p9wrGAnk/UcbwhyAfC6I/AAAAAAAAB2o/ZFq1g8rXV10/s640/IMG_9826.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-puS09MSCaJc/Ucbwh8So0yI/AAAAAAAAB2k/ElJgoX1m7_4/s1600/IMG_9827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-puS09MSCaJc/Ucbwh8So0yI/AAAAAAAAB2k/ElJgoX1m7_4/s640/IMG_9827.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Next up - my first canning adventure and making strawberry jam!&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div></div>Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-2848941356882781162013-04-18T09:06:00.003-04:002013-04-18T09:06:48.823-04:00motherloadThe word carries differing connotations depending on the words we use surrounding it. This week, to me, it best describes the weight I sometimes feel is carried in my heart, just by loving my child so fiercely. Motherload. The load of the emotions I have for my family is so great, so beautiful, and yet so completely overwhelming that when the world around us seems so ugly and uncertain, the load of my love can almost feel crippling. I'm not a religious person, and I don't even think I have a strong belief in whatever I might call my own spirituality...I generally feel that in raising my daughter I want to teach her through my words, my actions, that we treat one another with grace, dignity, love, and we will see the same in return. But then. Then, these things are proven wrong, again and again. Bombings, shootings, accidental explosions. Innocent people, doing the things they feel to be fulfilling, productive, loving, taken too soon. And sometimes, it just feels like too much for my mama heart to hold, this notion that I can't protect my child purely with love. &nbsp;That even when I do the things I believe to teach her about good, the slinking shadow of hate may still show its face at any given moment.<br /><br />I've read many bloggers' accounts and thoughts this week following the Boston Marathon bombings about parenthood in this world as we know it. I've been inspired, and brought to tears, and reminded that more than hate, there is love. And I have tried to let it prevail for myself this week, and not to let hate swirling around weigh down my heart. Last night after Norah was asleep, I laid my hand across her chest, feeling the strong, quick beats of her tiny heart. I was overcome by the feeling that from my own body came this perfect creature, so pure and full of promise, so very loved, and so vulnerable. How do we as mamas, carry on, knowing that these little beings we literally grew within our own bodies, are out in the world? &nbsp;I know this is no unique plight, but rather one that I'm sure has weighed on the hearts of mamas for all of our existence.<br /><br />Mama friends, how do you carry on? What do you talk to your children about if they are old enough to ask questions when things like this happen? &nbsp;I feel like I'm needing my village right now, to share some of the Motherload.Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-47430456664116133192013-04-11T10:36:00.000-04:002013-04-11T10:36:51.905-04:003 minutes...That's all the time it took to "lose" my daughter last night. We were re-making the bed after the previous night's multiple rounds of having a pukey child sleep with us, and she was happily playing with her animals and having "tea" in her playroom right next to our room. I snapped the last pillowcase on and walked around the corner to get her for bed...and she wasn't there. I called her name, and no answer. I went to her room, not there in the chair or the bed (which is currently hiding under a "tent" of sheets strung from the ceiling). I walked out to the living room, dining room, kitchen. Calling her name. Looked under the table, in the lazy susan (where she sometimes retreats to sneak a snack or swipe sugar from the canister). Not there. I started to get a little concerned that I could not find her, and asked Matt to come help me look. The gate to downstairs was latched, but the front door was unlocked, having just let Lainey out one last time for the night. She still stood on the porch, looking out over the dark, rainy yard, probably sizing up what lovely thing she would like to roll in.<br /><br />We did another, slightly more frantic, walk through upstairs, calling her name, looking again in all the same places. Bathrooms? No. Bedrooms? No. Kitchen, dining room, living room, front hall closet? No. Garage? Not that I could see. Suddenly, I had the sinking, awful panicky feeling that she had gone out the front door which I had left unlocked, into the dark night. I raced outside, and started calling her name, my voice loud and uncertain, my mind starting to conjure horrible images of the possible scenarios in which I suddenly felt I could very realistically find her. <br /><br />I ran through the front yard, not seeing her, hoping if she'd gone to the road someone would have seen her before the unthinkable happened and come to knock on our door. Then, it hit me. The pond in the backyard. &nbsp;At dinner she was standing by the sliding glass door, looking out into the dusk and saying "Go see water". We said "No, not tonight. It's too chilly/wet/dark. It's bedtime". I thought for sure she must have wandered to the back to check it out. I raced down the wet grassy hill in bare feet, catching my shins on the prickly wild raspberry bushes growing along the treeline. Calling her name into the dull silent night, with nothing but raindrops answering back. I ran back up to the house, hoping Matt had found her. My mom was just getting home, pulling her car in the driveway, and Matt was at her car door, telling her we couldn't find Norah.<br /><br />My heart started to sink with the feeling that it had been too long, too many minutes now, if she was in the water, or wandering into the dark, or in the road. Too many horror stories in my head, so many awful things imagined in those seconds. The instant guilt of failing as a parent, I didn't keep track of her, I was responsible for whatever I was going to find. I raced again to the pond's edge, and very nearly jumped in to start looking for her in the murky water, my throat seizing up with fear as I struggled to keep calling her name. Hearing my mom's frantic voice calling her name up and down our street out front.<br /><br />And then, Matt's voice. "I've got her! She's OK". &nbsp;I nearly collapsed, and called out to my mom that he had her. And ran back up the hill to the shape of their two bodies&nbsp;silhouetted&nbsp;in the doorway, slipping on the railroad tie steps slick in the rain.<br /><br />She'd gone downstairs, the gate must have been open after bringing up the clean bedding, and she closed it behind her. She hid under a blanket on the couch in the dark, not moving or answering the multiple times Matt ran down there to look for her. Then he glanced that way and thought to pull up the blanket, and there she was, happy as can be, no idea what we'd just gone through in the past 3 minutes.<br /><br />I know that she is OK, and she was never really in any danger at all. I know that I'm not a bad parent, and kids wander and hide and play games all the time. But my heart did not stop pounding, and the tears did not stop falling, my hands shaking, for at least an hour. &nbsp;Knowing that this is exactly how accidents <i>do</i>&nbsp;happen. The unimaginable becomes real in a matter of seconds or minutes. The scenarios I saw flashing through my mind in those moments racing through the rain, they are so horrifying because they have been another parent's reality. I know I cannot blame myself or feel guilty for making the bed while my child played in the room next to me. But I do know that the experience makes me want to hold her closer, not let her out of my sight as often, safeguard our home even more...<br /><br />I'm sure she won't mind if I just come to college with her, too.Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-35709305572558048562013-02-25T01:40:00.000-05:002013-02-25T01:40:00.184-05:00What's wrong with this picture?It's 1:30 in the morning, and my child is asleep while I'm wide awake. There's just something so wrong about that, seeing as how I'm supposed to be up for work in a matter of hours. Needless to say, this is why people refer to having "a case of the Mondays"...<br /><br />Anyway, while there hasn't been much to report lately, the biggest news is that I've once again been knocked flat with muscle spasms in my lower back. Nothing like ringing in my 30th year like a legit old lady. Last Saturday I was, I shit you not, throwing out a kleenex when my back just seized up and I could hardly breathe. I spent the better part of the next 4 days lying on the floor of the living room while Norah went between destroying the house and enjoying insane amounts of "screen time". &nbsp;I missed two days of work and let the rest of my responsibilities go to pot in the interim. We are now dealing with undoing the TV/ipad monster I created and trying to wind our way down from hideous tantrums about "watch agin, Einshines". &nbsp;Poor thing has a cold and terrible cough to go with it. Lovely :)<br /><br />It's definitely still winter around here, and we're in for another winter storm this week it seems. Everyone in this house is starting to show signs of cabin fever (and that extra layer of winter padding we all seem to feel the need to acquire like we live in the arctic or something). &nbsp;We are yearning for the telltale signs that spring is around the corner - just a peek from a crocus shoot would probably improve my mood for days! What are your best tips for end-of-the-winter blahs, especially with kids/dogs? <br /><br />Here's a quick peek at Norah from this weekend - she is growing up faster and faster every day I think...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_a4yACh_ldE/USsHEvWxlsI/AAAAAAAABu8/DRiVvCTmp6s/s1600/IMG_9347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_a4yACh_ldE/USsHEvWxlsI/AAAAAAAABu8/DRiVvCTmp6s/s640/IMG_9347.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fHkMlAHESG8/USsHEnwuyxI/AAAAAAAABvA/H9NYDmyGlEI/s1600/IMG_9346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fHkMlAHESG8/USsHEnwuyxI/AAAAAAAABvA/H9NYDmyGlEI/s640/IMG_9346.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_E204Z8HRpc/USsHE2b7E9I/AAAAAAAABvE/-g-FQJq0nv0/s1600/IMG_9350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_E204Z8HRpc/USsHE2b7E9I/AAAAAAAABvE/-g-FQJq0nv0/s640/IMG_9350.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-78120259260286034752013-02-10T13:14:00.000-05:002013-02-10T13:14:36.535-05:00Catching UpWell, clearly since the last time I updated was in November and we are indeed all over the wretched gastro virus...it's time to catch up with more enjoyable news. There's way too much to include in one update, but I'll start with what's shakin' these days.<br /><br />Norah is talking, talking, talking and is *thisclose* to really communicating in full sentences. She repeats anything we say, and new things are overheard every day around here. &nbsp;*Note to all, keep it clean up in here, as we've definitely heard "aw f&amp;*^" once! I love toddler language, and some of my favorite things she says right now:<br />"Line Cones" - Lion King, which she says for just about every lion<br />"Okhay" - her preferred affirmative statement<br />"Comfy" - comforters, blankets, or just literally to mean gettin' comfy<br />"Laff" - giraffe<br />"Ah-shines" - Einsteins (one of her Disney Jr. shows is Little Einsteins)<br />"Sofa" - Sofia (from another Disney Jr. show)<br />"Pulair" - polar bear<br />"uh-her one" - other one, another, the other<br />"love you much" and "kank you much"<br />"geeses"<br />"Nakey"<br />"lil bit"<br />"Entent" - elephant<br />"Wah-wah twy" - Norah try<br /><br />"pa-cakes" - pancakes or&nbsp;cupcakes<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYWu-BZ-D44/URfdQqsR1kI/AAAAAAAABts/vJ7UrpWpYFs/s1600/IMG_9330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYWu-BZ-D44/URfdQqsR1kI/AAAAAAAABts/vJ7UrpWpYFs/s640/IMG_9330.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">typical, refusing to put on pants, she says "nakey minute"</td></tr></tbody></table><br />While it's so amazing and rewarding to watch her learn about the world and put language to the people and places and things she sees, it's also a little bit sad for me to suddenly realize that the adorable words she used to use for things are replaced by words that are closer and closer to the real ones. &nbsp;She no longer calls coffee "waff", or "ma-churs" for markers. &nbsp;Language acquisition is probably one of the most incredible things to witness so far in development. I'm amazed every day at how well she can communicate with us.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXMP5gZgcUM/URfdP92llyI/AAAAAAAABtc/T5kyzSu0fEE/s1600/IMG_9328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QXMP5gZgcUM/URfdP92llyI/AAAAAAAABtc/T5kyzSu0fEE/s640/IMG_9328.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more dip! gwapes!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Moe-GVXEH9w/URfdQtI404I/AAAAAAAABto/Nh-7bU7XlCk/s1600/IMG_9340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Moe-GVXEH9w/URfdQtI404I/AAAAAAAABto/Nh-7bU7XlCk/s640/IMG_9340.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">loves yogurt, and chicken-dip (chicken with ranch)<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_qsAXHyCFc/URfdPJHHRrI/AAAAAAAABtI/PH_aFBKSRVg/s1600/IMG_9324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e_qsAXHyCFc/URfdPJHHRrI/AAAAAAAABtI/PH_aFBKSRVg/s640/IMG_9324.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sorting mail in her mailbox</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/1998_10102343803016783_625305881_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/1998_10102343803016783_625305881_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DIY felt mail</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />I was talking to a close friend last night who has a little boy who turned two in January, and we were noting how each child is just wired in such a unique and mysterious way. &nbsp;It just seems they have traits that are innate, no matter what we think we do to provide them with certain unbiased non-gendered play options. &nbsp;Norah mothers. She mamas her stuffed animals and her baby dolls. She diapers them and feeds them and snuggles them. She rocks and walks them. She covers them up with "comfies" and pats them to sleep. She "cooks" food and feeds us her tasty treats. &nbsp;She loves to make little stories up with her animal figurines and stage interactions (that only she knows what is going on). &nbsp;She plays house with the "little people" in the old plastic dollhouses my sister and I used to play with, placing the people in their rooms and driving them around in cars, and making them give each other kisses and hugs. &nbsp;My friend's son, well, he likes wheels and gears and trucks and diggers. He is obsessed with the blender, and wants to watch how it goes on and off, over and over. Of course, some of these things are learned about in their daily lives and picked up on from influences they are (maybe subtly) exposed to...but I do think that males and females are just wired differently, and it's incredible to see it from the very start.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wwJChWy4SYE/URfdy3j1-II/AAAAAAAABt8/eFEgR1BXPjM/s1600/IMG_9251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wwJChWy4SYE/URfdy3j1-II/AAAAAAAABt8/eFEgR1BXPjM/s640/IMG_9251.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having some tea</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Klzw_20nMxA/URfdzHRM2eI/AAAAAAAABuE/i5ugFd_Zy_s/s1600/Baking+some+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Klzw_20nMxA/URfdzHRM2eI/AAAAAAAABuE/i5ugFd_Zy_s/s640/Baking+some+cookies.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making cookies</td></tr></tbody></table>Unbeknownst to me, she is aware of her shapes. My father in law discovered her sorting through a bag of foam shapes and putting them into piles by shape and color one day. She has been labeling colors accurately for at least a month or so, with the exception that yellow often gets called "pink" (which is funny, because for a long time as a kid I called yellow "lello-pink"). &nbsp;At the store yesterday, she said as I picked out some produce "Two red peppers! Gween pepper too!" She also surprised us by counting to ten recently...I tell you, this child hasn't stop amazing us yet!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EA_aBZ6VQh4/URfdzX0PUkI/AAAAAAAABuI/GaDhki_5PSs/s1600/light+box+magnets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EA_aBZ6VQh4/URfdzX0PUkI/AAAAAAAABuI/GaDhki_5PSs/s640/light+box+magnets.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sorting shapes at the Hands On Museum<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She has been into trying out playdough a few times, but is still tempted to eat it quite often. This recent batch I made was a new recipe, and definitely NOT tasty (2 cups baking soda, 1 c cornstarch, 1.5 C water, plus I added maybe 3 T oil and some jello to color it). &nbsp;She does like the feel and squish of it, though. &nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHcThM3kutg/URfdPYP8zgI/AAAAAAAABtM/wMl5LKV773Q/s1600/IMG_9313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHcThM3kutg/URfdPYP8zgI/AAAAAAAABtM/wMl5LKV773Q/s640/IMG_9313.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EI0IFEgtd1g/URfdPnxJegI/AAAAAAAABtQ/VZdN7-vXB1A/s1600/IMG_9317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EI0IFEgtd1g/URfdPnxJegI/AAAAAAAABtQ/VZdN7-vXB1A/s640/IMG_9317.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />She is strong-willed and opinionated, and isn't shy about expressing herself! She must choose her own outfit (ok, sometimes 3 outfits before getting it right) and usually it must include purple. She'd wear her "pa-cakes" shirt every day if we'd keep it clean (has cupcakes on a purple long sleeved shirt). &nbsp;She chooses what she wants to eat (has been "chicken-dip" for breakfast the past two days). &nbsp;I guess this is what the professionals refer to as a "spirited child", and we wouldn't have her any other way! She keeps us challenged, both in patience and intellectually, she is outrageously cute (of course we aren't biased), and she drives us crazy on a regular basis. We are so enjoying having the privilege of watching her grow, and recognizing that we are so in for it for the foreseeable future! Norah Annabel, &nbsp;you warm &nbsp;our hearts :)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/13105_10102341182413493_3491996_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/13105_10102341182413493_3491996_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">home for a rare Mama-Norah day!&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-119790912998820092012-11-13T09:16:00.000-05:002012-11-13T09:16:36.994-05:00and then there was the time we ALL got the stomach flu...Yeah, that happened this weekend. Guess it's a rite of parenting passage, to have everyone in your home knocked out with the pukes at the same time. &nbsp;Norah started throwing up Thursday while home with my mom, and seemed better by the time we got home from work. We sent her to Pa's on Friday as usual and both of us went to work, and she was fine there all day. Then, 6 am on Saturday morning, BAM, I had the full blown GI bug. Just in time for Matt's mother's memorial service :(. Norah's GI tract got the lower end of the bug Saturday as well, and hasn't quit since Saturday, poor thing. She now runs away when we say it's time for a diaper change. &nbsp;This cloth diapering family has gone through a whole package of disposables this weekend, because I just could not bring myself to wash that many diapers in one day (seriously, at least 15 in 24 hours and still going). &nbsp;She and I stayed home and missed the memorial service for Carole (yeah, felt like wife of the century there). &nbsp;3:30 am Sunday, it struck again, and Matt was down for the count all day. &nbsp;I was mostly on the mend by Sunday, so spent the day going from top to bottom of the house with a bottle of Lysol and Clorox wipes - at least I could be thankful for the last nearly 70 degree day of the year so I could open the windows and air the house out!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eslaqW6wCng/UKJVR3k8DGI/AAAAAAAABsY/sZTtCyrDLuk/s1600/norah+sick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eslaqW6wCng/UKJVR3k8DGI/AAAAAAAABsY/sZTtCyrDLuk/s400/norah+sick.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Whew...at least the adults in the house are back to normal today. Poor Norah is still off, but hopefully it will run its course in the next day or so. I'm ready to deal with a normal amount of bodily fluids again, thank you. And our washer and dryer will be grateful for the break in the heaps of laundry that piled up after all of this. Thankful for running water, Gatorade, and antibacterial Febreeze this week!Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-13143853761807940772012-11-03T13:05:00.000-04:002012-11-03T13:05:00.967-04:00Cozy Farro Stew<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was home yesterday with a not-feeling-so-hot toddler, and with only one car which Matt had at work, I was stuck at home without a vehicle and my food options were somewhat limited. Sure, we have canned soup, tortillas and cheese for a quick "quesadilla", cereal and such...but I wanted something warm and cozy on a chilly November day (how can it be November already?). I started poking around the fridge and cupboards to see what we had that I could use to create something. Didn't have ground turkey, beans or canned tomatoes for chili. Didn't have thawed chicken for chicken noodle soup. But, I scrounged up some habanero green chili chicken sausage that had to be cooked like, today, and found some farro (which is an Italian grain with a size and texture similar to barley, but with a nuttier flavor) and that jump started this delicious pot of hearty fall stew! I will be making this again for sure! Also, if I'd had kale instead of spinach, I would have used that as I prefer the texture of kale in soups over the wilty spinach, but I wrote it as I made it with what I had on hand, so there you go.&nbsp;</span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yXWBBE1PWYc/UJVOnVjeBnI/AAAAAAAABrs/wObpN86KbGQ/s1600/IMG_8931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yXWBBE1PWYc/UJVOnVjeBnI/AAAAAAAABrs/wObpN86KbGQ/s640/IMG_8931.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Farro Stew with Chicken Sausage and Spinach</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><ul style="background-color: white; color: #2c2c2c; font-family: ff-tisa-web-pro, Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 26.383333206176758px; list-style: none; margin: 0px 0px 0.7em; padding: 0px; text-align: start;"><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">Ingredients:</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">4 tablespoons olive oil</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 medium white onion, diced</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="line-height: 1.6em; text-indent: -0.7em;">2 cloves garlic, minced</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="line-height: 1.6em; text-indent: -0.7em;">4 chicken sausage links, casings removed (I had&nbsp;<a href="http://www.aidells.com/sites/default/files/12s_habanerogreenchlie_0.jpg?1304466134">these</a>&nbsp;on hand)</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 tablespoon chopped fresh thyme</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">6 cups chicken stock (homemade is best - I had plenty in the freezer)</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">2 large carrots, diced</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">3 stalks celery, diced</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 cup farro (could substitute pearled barley but I prefer the nuttiness of farro)</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">Salt and pepper to taste</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 Bay leaf</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1/4 t. celery seed</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">about 3 large handfuls of baby spinach leaves, washed (or 1 bunch of kale, stems removed and leaves torn into bite sized pieces)</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes (I had some fresh frozen tomatoes from this summer to use up, so just substituted those)</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span class="ingredient">Grated Parmesan cheese for serving</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><br /></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">1. Heat 2 T olive oil in dutch oven over medium heat. Add onion and cook until soft and translucent, about 4-5 minutes. Turn heat down slightly and add garlic, stirring constantly to avoid burning and cook until garlic becomes fragrant, about 1 min.&nbsp;</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">2. &nbsp;While onions are cooking, in a separate pan, heat 2 T olive oil and crumble sausage links into small pieces, cooking until browned over medium heat.&nbsp;</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">3. &nbsp;To dutch oven, add carrots, celery, farro, sausage, all herbs and seasonings, tomatoes and stock. &nbsp;Bring to a boil then turn heat down to simmer for 35-40 minutes, covered, until farro is cooked to a slightly chewy texture, stirring occasionally.</span></li><li style="line-height: 1.6em; list-style-type: none; margin-bottom: 0.5em; padding-left: 1.2em; text-align: center; text-indent: -0.7em;"><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">4. &nbsp;Add spinach and stir to wilt into stew. &nbsp;Serve with grated fresh Parmesan cheese.&nbsp;</span></li></ul><div style="text-align: left; text-indent: -11.199999809265137px;"><div style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><br /></div></div><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-74046215275139048812012-10-31T23:17:00.004-04:002012-10-31T23:17:54.785-04:00Sugar Rush - Happy Halloween! <div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Halloween everyone! Norah's first Trick-or-Treating experience was a total success! After a 5 minute meltdown about putting on the tutu, she was bribed with chocolate and ready to head out! Our version of Olivia the Pig (which is her current obsession, books, movie, dolls, you name it, Olivia is where it's AT!):&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fvWuwVztEvw/UJHm2-eaIAI/AAAAAAAABqY/NIEwO_eFy84/s1600/Olivia_Pig_by_ubiquitous_squash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fvWuwVztEvw/UJHm2-eaIAI/AAAAAAAABqY/NIEwO_eFy84/s320/Olivia_Pig_by_ubiquitous_squash.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-msWCq5h0C4A/UJHltkM5doI/AAAAAAAABp0/RDlgXck7f58/s1600/IMG_8920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-msWCq5h0C4A/UJHltkM5doI/AAAAAAAABp0/RDlgXck7f58/s640/IMG_8920.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HJA4IU2oyZE/UJHluKYmOeI/AAAAAAAABp8/4hcS-VUqzPw/s1600/IMG_8921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HJA4IU2oyZE/UJHluKYmOeI/AAAAAAAABp8/4hcS-VUqzPw/s640/IMG_8921.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xfl8yNTMspU/UJHlu8obSlI/AAAAAAAABqE/xiq6f9r7q30/s1600/IMG_8922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xfl8yNTMspU/UJHlu8obSlI/AAAAAAAABqE/xiq6f9r7q30/s640/IMG_8922.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She rode in the stroller for a few streets, and wouldn't say Trick Or Treat at any houses, but once she got the hang of it girlfriend went running from house to house clutching shiny wrapped candy in each little mittened paw. She said Thank You to everyone, and loved getting to sneak in a "pat-pat" to anyone's dogs who would allow it!&nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PkXQZzMX6bw/UJHlvkZsNkI/AAAAAAAABqM/Ws64jv4kR90/s1600/IMG_8924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PkXQZzMX6bw/UJHlvkZsNkI/AAAAAAAABqM/Ws64jv4kR90/s640/IMG_8924.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">She had a preview of what was to come last Friday when Pinckney hosted a Spooktacular in the Park with "trunk or treating", and we went down to give the whole costume thing a trial run. She loved it!&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Iu0OSDDMBU/UJHoynjW59I/AAAAAAAABqg/F9BSICIh2DU/s1600/By+some+stroke+of+luck+she+let+me+put+it+on+for+the+Spooktacular+in+Pinckney+tonight.+In+stages,+still+not+allowing+the+tutu+here..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Iu0OSDDMBU/UJHoynjW59I/AAAAAAAABqg/F9BSICIh2DU/s640/By+some+stroke+of+luck+she+let+me+put+it+on+for+the+Spooktacular+in+Pinckney+tonight.+In+stages,+still+not+allowing+the+tutu+here..jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCEOPF07PWI/UJHozOlhngI/AAAAAAAABqo/QnjzSohcQtg/s1600/Checking+out+her+first+%22nummies%22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCEOPF07PWI/UJHozOlhngI/AAAAAAAABqo/QnjzSohcQtg/s640/Checking+out+her+first+%22nummies%22.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oorgjl_r2ME/UJHoz8opOQI/AAAAAAAABqw/EZtmY7tn0mU/s1600/IMG_8819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oorgjl_r2ME/UJHoz8opOQI/AAAAAAAABqw/EZtmY7tn0mU/s640/IMG_8819.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not so sure about going in the straw maze, but watching other kids run was fun too</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Rc2PoJO8zk/UJHo0sn-XhI/AAAAAAAABq4/2C10BOwyfZI/s1600/IMG_8858.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6Rc2PoJO8zk/UJHo0sn-XhI/AAAAAAAABq4/2C10BOwyfZI/s640/IMG_8858.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enjoying some "pop pop" and having a little rest</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-14vrXIVvGY0/UJHo1C36nPI/AAAAAAAABrA/OhuUi_8pKzk/s1600/Tutu+on!.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-14vrXIVvGY0/UJHo1C36nPI/AAAAAAAABrA/OhuUi_8pKzk/s640/Tutu+on!.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"mmm nummy!"&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am just loving seeing the experiences of childhood from the side of being her mama lately. &nbsp;I could not stop smiling tonight as we walked around my own childhood neighborhood and knocked on the same doors and stood on the same porches to say trick-or-treat to some of the same neighbors (and many new ones) &nbsp;that I did growing up. Watching my girl fly from lawn to lawn and smile with glee at the prospect of a totally new experience like Trick-or-Treating is one of the things I imagined all those years before being her mama, and it is all better than I could have ever anticipated. I hope to craft a childhood experience for her that is carefree, happy, safe, and imaginative. A space that when she looks back from her own view as a mama someday she will remember with glowing memories and smile her own ear to ear grin reliving. &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I hope you all had a happy Halloween! &nbsp;This is one mama who is so excited for all of the holiday festivities to come in the next 2 months! Can't wait to create more traditions and memories with our girl!&nbsp;</div>Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-21397843775852082292012-10-10T23:10:00.000-04:002012-10-10T23:10:33.438-04:00So, so behind...I'm beyond overdue for a post...I know it. &nbsp;We've packed and moved since the last update, and I only just plugged the computer back in after being at my Mom's for the past 2 weeks...Let's just say life is busy and exhausting! But, that's not unique to us or news to any of you, just the lame-o explanation for lack of posting over here.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MDtH9o2kUy8/UHY0BE2nC-I/AAAAAAAABpU/5acpUhPy5mI/s1600/IMG_8746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MDtH9o2kUy8/UHY0BE2nC-I/AAAAAAAABpU/5acpUhPy5mI/s640/IMG_8746.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dexter Cider Mill</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Norah's doing great! She is 17 months now, and is every bit a full blown toddler. She has so many new words and expressions, I couldn't even count them anymore if I tried. She's been saying two word sentences (things like "bye mama", "two puppies", "more please") for a while, and I'm so curious as to what the first three word sentence will be...hopefully something appropriate because she is into repeating whatever she hears now! Time to watch the language over here ;)<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2YtxO6bIwg/UHYz-q7pLUI/AAAAAAAABo8/uP4gzMNKj6o/s1600/IMG_8735.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2YtxO6bIwg/UHYz-q7pLUI/AAAAAAAABo8/uP4gzMNKj6o/s640/IMG_8735.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bird bath at Grandma's is fascinating, and she points it out every day saying "Ucky Wata" (yucky water). She's also looking in the sky at an airplane here, and she usually waves and says "Hi Ah-pane" when they go by.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br />She did a somersault the other night and wouldn't stop after she figured out what she did - it's her new trick and she loves it! I see some gymnastics classes in her future! <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz40JNNQqubRYSJ6eTkRuu8t65LFmCF5nQFtYEXPjWt3Eqo3NdC4nuQpG-2IaEfBgold0VRBA3uRFFAh2TDyw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br /><br />We are loving the fall - the colors are absolutely brilliant this year, which is a surprise to me given how hot and dry the summer was, but I love it nonetheless! We've been to the Dexter Cider Mill and Norah enjoyed her first cider mill cinnamon donut, and of course she loved it (how could you not?). &nbsp;I'm working on her Halloween costume slowly - it's nothing major this year because I didn't think she'd leave a costume on for long and didn't want to spend a ton of time or $$ on a short lived novelty. She's going to be Olivia the Pig, which she adores. &nbsp;Photos of that to come soon!<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f9YVfs8qq_A/UHY0AQgSoiI/AAAAAAAABpM/Np7JnLHESho/s1600/IMG_8745.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-f9YVfs8qq_A/UHY0AQgSoiI/AAAAAAAABpM/Np7JnLHESho/s640/IMG_8745.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First taste of a cider mill donut</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XCE1jSAm3kk/UHYz_WiLaFI/AAAAAAAABpE/qOCOjGZaK18/s1600/IMG_8743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XCE1jSAm3kk/UHYz_WiLaFI/AAAAAAAABpE/qOCOjGZaK18/s640/IMG_8743.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She kept asking for "more please!"</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2-ltIgkzGPQ/UHYz7bnCt5I/AAAAAAAABoc/4dRitKAyz_o/s1600/IMG_8715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2-ltIgkzGPQ/UHYz7bnCt5I/AAAAAAAABoc/4dRitKAyz_o/s640/IMG_8715.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girl is obsessed with busses - she points them out when we see them driving or if she hears one go by. &nbsp;She can answer "what color is a school bus" with "ell-oh" and she loves to take a turn behind the wheel when she gets the chance.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We went to the Harvest Festival at the Child Care Center and Norah got to see and pet some baby animals. She was NOT sure about the goats, but she did like the cow and the piglet. &nbsp;She kept her distance though, unless she had a grip on one of us.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kdDU0SQrlTo/UHYz8M0ObiI/AAAAAAAABok/8siIfKXVv6k/s1600/IMG_8728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kdDU0SQrlTo/UHYz8M0ObiI/AAAAAAAABok/8siIfKXVv6k/s640/IMG_8728.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-awjzOkcWKTw/UHYz9EHej5I/AAAAAAAABos/n0Nfbp3dH6w/s1600/IMG_8730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-awjzOkcWKTw/UHYz9EHej5I/AAAAAAAABos/n0Nfbp3dH6w/s640/IMG_8730.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwYnfkvmakM/UHYz9m-D1II/AAAAAAAABo0/OJML12upL1c/s1600/IMG_8732.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rwYnfkvmakM/UHYz9m-D1II/AAAAAAAABo0/OJML12upL1c/s640/IMG_8732.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I scraped my leg pretty well moving and have had quite the healing scar for a few weeks, and Norah has spied this. She was very concerned when I told her I had a boo-boo, and that it hurt but I was ok. She is now very interested in talking about "hurt" and "ow" and pulls up her pant cuff to look for her own boo-boo. So interesting how toddlers absorb all of the things in the world around them, and what they can remember day to day. <br /><br />Overall, life is good. We are exhausted from moving, not sleeping enough, and trying to fit in all of the enjoyable things around us, but we are so lucky to have family here who loves us and helps us out when we need. Hopefully I'll be better about posting more often again, now that we are getting settled and the computer is plugged in again (that usually helps!). Looking forward to enjoying the rest of my favorite month and Halloween, followed by the glorious holiday season. I'm really just wanting a simple, relaxed holiday time this year, and want to enjoy Norah in her littleness for the time being. Excited to see what she thinks of some of the fun Christmas things in store for her now that she is more interactive than last year. So much fun to look forward to!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-78098629203108022392012-08-08T22:30:00.001-04:002012-08-09T09:16:30.710-04:00Belated Norah Grows: 15 Month Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kvP80nBkzYU/UCMgjcR2P-I/AAAAAAAABno/JCNOAy2X5nU/s1600/playing+peekaboo+behind+a+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kvP80nBkzYU/UCMgjcR2P-I/AAAAAAAABno/JCNOAy2X5nU/s640/playing+peekaboo+behind+a+tree.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Well, I think the fact that it's been 3 months since I wrote an update on Norah's development is probably proof in the pudding that she has been a time-consuming, challenging, busy little lady of late!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YGY1DMvXZoQ/UCMb4y2MHJI/AAAAAAAABlY/U0K_7HziAR8/s1600/IMG_8449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YGY1DMvXZoQ/UCMb4y2MHJI/AAAAAAAABlY/U0K_7HziAR8/s640/IMG_8449.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Norah, you are our little Firecracker, plain and simple. You have gone from a wobbly baby to an independent toddler, overnight. Your strong will and stubbornness continue to be the dominant features of your personality, and boy are you&nbsp;exercising&nbsp;your ability to voice your opinions lately!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E6qPgQ1oouU/UCMb_UeitEI/AAAAAAAABmo/TjJvs2_5imU/s1600/One+of+the+many+faces+of+my+Norah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E6qPgQ1oouU/UCMb_UeitEI/AAAAAAAABmo/TjJvs2_5imU/s640/One+of+the+many+faces+of+my+Norah.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><br />You have at least 35-40 words in your vocabulary, and it seems you add new ones just about every day. You now regularly say: Mama, Daddy, Pa (Papa), Mimi (for grandma), Tryn, Liam, Lainey,&nbsp;"Bonzer", "Ash",&nbsp;"Hope",&nbsp;puppy, kitty, hot, up, bottle, hi, uh oh, more, please, thank you, all done,sit down, peas, pasta, cracker, snack (so cute - you say NAAAAAACK!), water, tree, ball, bath, splash, shoes, toast, pizza, baby, pee pee, trash, yuck, hat, eyes, potty, bus, truck, leash, glasses, socks, chalk, "coffee" (you say "Waff"). &nbsp;&nbsp;You still sign "more", "please" and "all done" but have started saying the words along with the signs when you use them. &nbsp;You try to repeat words you hear and you watch our mouths closely when we say new things, and we can just see the wheels in your heading spinning while you try to figure out how we make the sounds. Language development is truly incredible, and you seem to be less frustrated in the past couple of days because I think you can finally communicate better using your words.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyj5HbP-BkQ6YG-NRLjBeSnsouHNM1k9RRHOCZ9EyxVKU_x1WN6HOSOPX5x9T9lnXZGGkKGnP1D94yOhbFPJA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BF08FouuH8w/UCMb71JUERI/AAAAAAAABmI/ZNoyM2uCKF4/s1600/IMG_8505.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BF08FouuH8w/UCMb71JUERI/AAAAAAAABmI/ZNoyM2uCKF4/s640/IMG_8505.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />You now have 14 teeth - 14! And...unfortunately you have learned that you can use them to bite, in addition to chewing your food. &nbsp;We are working on curbing the biting, but you still resort to it pretty frequently right now when frustrated or angry. We try to give you things that are OK to bite instead of us, and we offer cold teethers and popsicles when we think it's due to teething pain. But when it's just bite after bite mid-tantrum, we are also starting brief time outs, or at least abruptly removing you from whomever you are trying to bite and walking away, giving you no attention/reinforcement of the behavior. We do have some luck redirecting you to give us a kiss instead, which is always a sweet diversion. &nbsp;We are hoping this biting is a brief phase.<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e_20xJQDlco/UCMb7aM6j8I/AAAAAAAABmA/m7gCf-P-jCc/s1600/IMG_8469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e_20xJQDlco/UCMb7aM6j8I/AAAAAAAABmA/m7gCf-P-jCc/s640/IMG_8469.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s1600/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s1600/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s1600/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s1600/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s1600/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rG23IZUuDUs/UCMb66k5XGI/AAAAAAAABl4/nKi-NbVr-zY/s640/IMG_8468+-+Version+2.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />As previously mentioned in other updates, your sleep has not been the greatest, and we are rounding out a month-long sleep regression. You seem to finally be fighting sleep a little less, but you are still VERY reliant on your bottle in order to go down. In fact, you wake at 5 AM most mornings demanding a "BA-DUH", and NOW! We are trying to wean your dependence on them, but it's not been very successful. Hopefully in the next few months you will give them up on your own? &nbsp;Please? <br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lHf2vWDHrwY/UCMcAMb-H6I/AAAAAAAABm4/AUbI0Vfaf1c/s1600/We+had+a+Mama+and+Norah+day+and+got+smoothies+after+peanut+had+to+get+shots+at+the+pediatrician..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lHf2vWDHrwY/UCMcAMb-H6I/AAAAAAAABm4/AUbI0Vfaf1c/s640/We+had+a+Mama+and+Norah+day+and+got+smoothies+after+peanut+had+to+get+shots+at+the+pediatrician..jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlE_DM441Wk/UCMcAsfdLrI/AAAAAAAABnA/ipPPEAaU2nM/s1600/mmm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlE_DM441Wk/UCMcAsfdLrI/AAAAAAAABnA/ipPPEAaU2nM/s640/mmm.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vU_HQm3bGj4/UCMb8rzP0tI/AAAAAAAABmQ/WWcCfcwrNxk/s1600/IMG_8507.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vU_HQm3bGj4/UCMb8rzP0tI/AAAAAAAABmQ/WWcCfcwrNxk/s640/IMG_8507.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You have been so funny lately favoring one or the other of us. &nbsp;Sometimes at the end of a workday when we pick you up, you won't give Daddy the time of day and you are all about the Mama. But in the evenings and around bedtime lately, you are 100% in need of your Daddy time. He is the first one you ask for in the morning when you open your eyes, and the one you have been asking for in the night if you wake up. &nbsp;You really love your Daddy, that much is clear!&nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WXF-BaxDFqc/UCMb-emoJ_I/AAAAAAAABmY/OHSxmWmyDsY/s1600/IMG_8513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WXF-BaxDFqc/UCMb-emoJ_I/AAAAAAAABmY/OHSxmWmyDsY/s640/IMG_8513.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">&nbsp;You also REALLY love your Lainey dog. &nbsp;You two are seriously best buddies. You say puppy as often as you say Daddy, and most of the time you say "daddy-puppy-daddy-puppy-daddy" in the same breath. &nbsp;You are so sweet to her and love to give her snuggles and kisses.&nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-41aEdAkRaLs/UCMb_v66kBI/AAAAAAAABmw/xOQkWsSbJwc/s1600/The+girl+loves+her+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-41aEdAkRaLs/UCMb_v66kBI/AAAAAAAABmw/xOQkWsSbJwc/s640/The+girl+loves+her+dog.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />You are fully into climbing mode, and anything and everything is a possible climber for you, including the pantry shelves, dining room table, TV stand, couches/chairs/beds, etc. Outside, you love to push your cart down the sidewalk and could seriously spend hours in the pool. &nbsp;You Love the slide at the park, and have gotten so independent most of the time you go down by yourself! &nbsp;You have noticed the moon and airplanes and now point to the sky when you hear one flying overhead.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3gtyx4mvO-k/UCMb5Q0Z_3I/AAAAAAAABlg/0N6e69xpjc0/s1600/IMG_8455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3gtyx4mvO-k/UCMb5Q0Z_3I/AAAAAAAABlg/0N6e69xpjc0/s640/IMG_8455.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3rLHEFizBYM/UCMb6UGhj0I/AAAAAAAABlw/D3z5VdmJIAQ/s1600/IMG_8460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3rLHEFizBYM/UCMb6UGhj0I/AAAAAAAABlw/D3z5VdmJIAQ/s640/IMG_8460.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--YbQtX0FxXU/UCMb5-VnJ-I/AAAAAAAABlo/JN6HvIqZgqM/s1600/IMG_8458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--YbQtX0FxXU/UCMb5-VnJ-I/AAAAAAAABlo/JN6HvIqZgqM/s640/IMG_8458.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />You LOVE books - it's the one thing that you will usually sit down and do for the longest periods of time. You love Goodnight Gorilla, Goodnight Moon, The Rainbow Fish, Olivia, Winnie the Pooh, Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, and Sandra Boynton books. You have a board book called Puppies, which you also adore. I hope you always love to read, and can't wait to share some of my own favorite childhood stories with you.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQlwMyIg7rg/UCMgi-4IKOI/AAAAAAAABng/4i9kIIl1Wm0/s1600/IMG_8446.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQlwMyIg7rg/UCMgi-4IKOI/AAAAAAAABng/4i9kIIl1Wm0/s640/IMG_8446.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br /><br />You are still our funny, sweet, bright little one, but you have an added streak of spice lately. &nbsp;No lie, your Daddy and I are challenged some days with trying to figure out what to do with you next. You keep us endlessly busy, and we just hope that you will always know how loved you are, even on days when we might seem tapped out, tired, frustrated, or discouraged. &nbsp;You are you, and we love and appreciate every crazy bit! You could not be more beautiful to us, little love. Keep growing, beauty, just not too fast, OK?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2lMqopzKEqk/UCMb-6cRRxI/AAAAAAAABmg/LBeQEazslSM/s1600/IMG_8517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2lMqopzKEqk/UCMb-6cRRxI/AAAAAAAABmg/LBeQEazslSM/s640/IMG_8517.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-73878856053518078372012-07-20T11:30:00.000-04:002012-08-02T11:10:37.640-04:00Regression...in Sleep, Sanity, et alWell, it appears we have fallen into the 14 Month Sleep Regression with Miss Norah. For about 3 weeks now she has been fighting sleep, nearly every single nap and bedtime. She is waking at night and often screaming or fussing for hours. We're back to giving her bottles in the night to get her back to sleep, and she is barely eating solid food some days. I'm afraid what started as some sleep disturbance due to teething molars has morphed into a behavioral pattern that is going to take some serious willpower to break (on our end, which will be a massive feat given the Willpower of this child).<br /><br />We have tried teething tablets, Tylenol, Motrin. Calms Forte and Rescue Remedy at bedtime and overnight when she wakes. &nbsp;Lavender oil on her sheets. Noise machine and nightlight on. &nbsp;We maintain a stable bedtime routine - dinner, bath, lotion/jammies, bottle, stories, bed. But lately, she often barely eats dinner, throwing food off her tray moments after we put it down for her. Screams when we put her in the tub for bath, and refuses to sit down in the water, saying "Hot, Hot" even though of course it isn't too hot. She no longer likes to be rocked to sleep while drinking a bottle and having a story read to her. She just wants to get down and runs to the bedroom door saying "Up, All Done". Child does.not.want.to.sleep. She often finishes her bottle, is still awake, and then we end up letting her scream in her crib for up to an hour and a half, before one of us gives in and heads back in there, usually with a few more ounces of milk and she finally falls asleep by 9:30 or later.<br /><br />I want to quit the bottles. I know she's getting too much milk on a daily basis - should be between 16-24 oz a day, and I'm quite sure she gets closer to 30 oz or more many days. She won't take water from a bottle, but drinks water out of a straw sippy just fine. She won't take milk from the cup though. I worry about her teeth, but I also worry that she is filling up on milk only and not eating a balanced diet, and then can be at risk for iron deficiency. &nbsp;But even more, I want the bottles gone because she relies on them to fall asleep, and expects that we will come in with a bottle when she wakes and we eventually give in because hours and hours of screaming until she pukes just isn't cutting it every single night.<br /><br />She will SCREAM, bloody eff, she will scream, for hours. She will not give in and fall asleep on her own anymore, she will just continue to scream until she makes herself gag and/or throw up. Then, I come in, clean her up, and we start over. I can't do that for hours on end, every night, and in the middle of the night. She is not getting the point that when it's time to lay in her crib, it's bedtime, time to sleep, not scream.<br /><br />What's so frustrating is that we've already done this, gotten past it, and she was sleeping through the night. For about 3 months, she was going to bed around 8:30 and waking about 6:30 am, and taking 2 reasonable naps a day. So what the Hell?<br /><br />I feel defeated. I'm exhausted again. I want to cry on a daily basis, frankly most days I do. I don't even like my kid some days (of course I ALWAYS love her, but the liking part? Mmm not so much enjoying this phase, thanks). I feel like I have to be getting something wrong, or this wouldn't be happening. I feel like none of my friends with toddlers have experienced this, so it can't all be due to "just a phase". &nbsp;Maybe she does have a strong willed personality (OK, we know she does) and some of it is just her trying to express her independence. But I have to be missing something, because I just do not know what else to try to get her to sleep and stay asleep. I just don't know. But I'm slowly losing my mind, my sanity, and my ability to rationally think through a plan for what else to do.<br /><br />I've turned into a Me-Monster on Facebook and among my work group of friends, turning every conversation into a plea for sympathy and/or approaches to try. I can't answer the question "How is Norah?" from well meaning friends/family/acquaintances without spinning into a spiral about all of the hairy details of this current pattern of awfulness going on.&nbsp;&nbsp;Not that they really wanted to know. Sometimes I guess I'm looking for others to say "yeah, we had a kiddo like that...it was rough for a while but we got through it, and hey, she turned out OK". &nbsp;And sometimes, I don't even know why I do it, because I end up sounding like a complete Hot Mess of Failed Mama Sauce and why the hell can I not just get a handle on my toddler, she's only 15 months old for gosh sakes, who's making the rules here? &nbsp;I don't know. I guess it just comes down to the fact that I'm exhausted, overwhelmed, and really just want someone else to fix it for me. But you never get that Take a Free Pass card when you're the parent, do you? &nbsp;Dammit (yeah, I know, she'll be saying that one all too soon, too.)Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-78955455820698290352012-07-05T20:37:00.000-04:002012-07-06T00:01:40.078-04:00Sometimes, this gig is just...hard.<blockquote class="tr_bq"><br /></blockquote><br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">I read a parenting column today on&nbsp;<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kara-gebhart-uhl/phases-moments-parenting_b_1651288.html?utm_hp_ref=fb&amp;ir=Parents&amp;ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009&amp;src=sp&amp;comm_ref=false#sb=2897578,b=facebook" target="_blank">phases and moments</a>&nbsp;(that I wish I had written myself), and it's had me thinking a lot about how challenging these phases of raising a toddler can be. While the article made me laugh along with her and tear up towards the end, it also reminded me that when you are smack in the middle of one of the OMGwhen-will-it-end phases, it can be grindingly difficult going. We are rapidly cycling between a few of the choice phases, including the:&nbsp;&nbsp;</blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I'm-going-to-put-everything-in-my-mouth-including-dead-bugs-and-stale-Cheerios-buried-in-my-car seat phase" and the "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I'm-going-to-take-away-all-your-"me"-time-by-requiring-your-assistance-for-three-hours-to-go-to-sleep-every-night-for-a-month phase", followed by the "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I-will-wake-up-at-6am-demanding-oatmeal-even-though-I-didn't-fall-asleep-until-11pm phase". &nbsp;Also,&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">the "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I-will-beg-you-to-read-the-same-book-to-me-12-times-a-day phase" and a combination of "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I-will-run-into-everything-covering-myself-with-bruises-making-you-worry-that-someone-is-going-to-call-Child-Services-on-you phase" and&nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">the "I-will-climb-everything phase".</span></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KJGtmSDRsGQ/T_YxykZdjEI/AAAAAAAABk8/VtA14nG6_j0/s1600/IMG_8326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KJGtmSDRsGQ/T_YxykZdjEI/AAAAAAAABk8/VtA14nG6_j0/s640/IMG_8326.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit A</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Norah is a challenge many days lately. She has boundless energy and the willfulness of a bull. &nbsp;She is curious and physically strong and capable enough of exploring just about anything she sets her mind to. She can also be so charming and gentle and I can already tell that she has the capacity for compassion in the way she treats the dog and her "babies" and each of us (when she wants to). &nbsp;All of these are characteristics that not only make her unique but will become the foundation of the personality she will develop as she becomes her own person. I want to spend more time capturing the moments and paying attention to the tiniest glimpses of who she is now, while she's still part baby yet rapidly turning into an independent soul. But seriously, in the midst of the above combination of OMG<i>Phase</i>, sometimes it's just really, really hard to stop and appreciate all of the <i>Moments, </i>ya know?<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5lW_aj37888/T_YxpcxlsQI/AAAAAAAABkw/hSDrVn8K7Hg/s1600/IMG_8328.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5lW_aj37888/T_YxpcxlsQI/AAAAAAAABkw/hSDrVn8K7Hg/s640/IMG_8328.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhibit B</td></tr></tbody></table>Matt and I have always tried to be a solid front when it comes to parenting ideals and decisions. We try to take the same stance as often as possible, and if we don't agree we at least try to back the other one up in the midst of decision making and follow-through, and talk about it later. &nbsp;But what no one in parenting magazines and all the shiny front page articles really seems to tell you, is that it is really, really hard to be the adults in the equation sometimes. Those middle of the night fights over how to soothe a sick and crying baby really don't bring out the best in either of you. &nbsp;Those teeny silly battles that really aren't the hill to die on, but still hang over your head as you're falling asleep taking stock of the day and make you question if you're the one getting it wrong. &nbsp;They weigh on me. &nbsp;They challenge me to be better tomorrow, for her, for him. For me.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dpFdY3lit7Q/T_YyQA69uvI/AAAAAAAABlE/dXe0yP1mzjs/s1600/IMG_8247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dpFdY3lit7Q/T_YyQA69uvI/AAAAAAAABlE/dXe0yP1mzjs/s640/IMG_8247.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><br />There are many, many moments (OK, days, <i>phases</i>&nbsp;even) when I worry that I'm failing her somehow, even in the tiniest ways. I want to be there for her, to provide her with the kind of blissful childhood I think everyone deserves. I don't want my worries to be hers, ever. In short, I want to protect her from adulthood and its realities when they aren't always rosy. And that, I think, is the hardest part about this gig, parenting...that I can't protect her from reality. &nbsp;Parenting has been the biggest reality check in all my life. And sometimes, the moments are hard to swallow. &nbsp; And sometimes, they are purely awesome.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RGqkXnKfi1w/T_Yyp53qM5I/AAAAAAAABlM/mPk1RFm8XeM/s1600/IMG_8226+-+Version+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RGqkXnKfi1w/T_Yyp53qM5I/AAAAAAAABlM/mPk1RFm8XeM/s640/IMG_8226+-+Version+3.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-73964099307492921632012-06-27T22:25:00.004-04:002012-06-27T22:25:58.815-04:00Confessions of a Zumba Mama (PSA: Pee before you Zumba)Tonight may have included my most embarrassing moment in quite some time, and frankly I'm not sure anyone but me even knew what happened...does it still count as a most embarrassing moment if no one even saw? &nbsp;In case it doesn't I figured I might as well, so of course why not bare it all on the internet, right? Well, the title probably says all you need know, but I'll carry on and enlighten you anyway (if you'd prefer not to hear the details feel free to sit this one out).<br /><br />It's the second week of summer session for Zumba. It's been in the 90s both weeks, (tomorrow's forecasted high is 104...bloody hell) and class is held in an old school building without A/C. &nbsp; I am in a different building this summer, with new keys, security entrance codes, light keys, blah blah blah. I show up 5 min before class tonight after busting through traffic to get there, and at least half the students are already there waiting outside, looking super duper thrilled. &nbsp;I can't get the exterior keypad to unlock the door, my hands are shaking and I'm feeling guiltier and more inadequate as the seconds tick by and all my paying students just want is to go inside and take a damn Zumba class. I finally get it unlocked (ummm can we say user error, doy) and we head inside. I then can't figure out how to turn on the lights, and the wood floors were revarnished two weeks ago and the gym still smells like toxic ass. Super.<br /><br />I finally get the lights on, the doors open for a breeze, and music ready to go. We start warming up (in case people weren't already sweating from waiting outside in the 90 degree heat for my lame ass to show up and let them in). The third song has quite a spunky beat and includes some scissor jumps. WELP FOLKS IT TURNS OUT THAT AFTER HAVING A BABY YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY PEE BEFORE DOING ANY SORT OF JUMPING. I found that one out...the hard way. Yes. I peed my pants in front of 30 Red &amp; Ed Zumba students. I just kept on going, hoping if it actually went down my legs people might just think it was a lot of sweat. Oh my gawd. &nbsp;It actually crossed my mind during class that maybe I should look into getting a pack of those super light adult liners for people with incontinence for my Zumba nights, because really wouldn't it be more dignified to just wear a damn diaper than actually pee your pants and worry about whether people would notice it running down your legs? &nbsp;Or maybe I could just not be running late every week, and actually pee before class. &nbsp;Now there's a thought.<br /><br />And, before I go on in my recently sleep-deprived state (Norah's had Roseola this week, sleep is a thing of the past, and hopefully the near future) and say anything more embarrassing than that, I believe I shall call it a night. :)<br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-64742322989211109552012-06-20T22:17:00.000-04:002012-06-20T22:21:17.642-04:00Do the Potty DanceWell, I know it's been too long since I've posted any updates on Miss Norah, but I felt compelled to post tonight because she accomplished a major milestone this evening. Last weekend we bought her a little potty seat to play with and get used to, with no expectations or pressure that she would actually use it for months. But, as soon as I take off her diaper at certain times (before/after nap, bath) I know that if I let her run nakey she will usually take off and pee somewhere (usually on the carpet, go figure) within a minute or two. Why not see if she will sit on the potty then, at those key times, when I can anticipate that she might actually go there? Well, that's just what she did tonight! I asked her if she wanted to sit on her potty, and not 15 seconds later she peed in the potty for the very first time! I wanted to clap and sing, but I didn't want to freak her out so much that it will be the last time too, so I somewhat calmly told her Great Job and High Five! and she smiled and truly seemed proud of herself. My mama heart swooned and probably grew a size or two. Who knew that celebrating putting some pee in a plastic bucket would elicit such a tender response? &nbsp;I also know that I will not be that mama who posts Facebook updates regarding potty training trials and errors...but I had to post somewhere and this is it! So you, my lucky readers whoever you are, get to hear a proud mama brag on about her awesome child who awesomely did what no other almost-14-month-old child has ever done before! I kid, I kid. But I am proud of her anyway :)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRop8CSIKFA/T-KAnYY7RrI/AAAAAAAABj0/KUwA_638WLM/s1600/IMG_8226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRop8CSIKFA/T-KAnYY7RrI/AAAAAAAABj0/KUwA_638WLM/s640/IMG_8226.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEag3GG_s6E/T-KAmx4RRpI/AAAAAAAABjs/1xrVACDEmWM/s1600/IMG_8221+-+Version+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GEag3GG_s6E/T-KAmx4RRpI/AAAAAAAABjs/1xrVACDEmWM/s640/IMG_8221+-+Version+2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bQkYE_ZSqs/T-KAmKEoJdI/AAAAAAAABjk/YR2akExcvi8/s1600/IMG_8209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9bQkYE_ZSqs/T-KAmKEoJdI/AAAAAAAABjk/YR2akExcvi8/s640/IMG_8209.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>As long as I'm doing a little update, I will also just say that she is starting to be more verbal, which is really helpful for all of us, because she is getting really frustrated when she knows what she wants but WE don't understand...resulting in lots of whining, meltdowns, some pinching/scratching/biting, and general crankiness had by all. &nbsp;Her vocabulary now includes: mama, daddy, puppy, baby, hi, up, kitty, "uh huh", ball, woof, sit, hot, hat, and she uses baby signs for "more", "all done", and "eat". &nbsp;We are trying to get her to use the signs for "help" and "please" but those haven't quite taken off yet. She does know and respond when we sign "sit down", "no", and "stop" &nbsp;(well, that is if she wants to respond appropriately!). &nbsp;And, see - she is learning to spell already, too!<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hfNluRvN6LE/T-KBTr62ouI/AAAAAAAABkE/F98gd6bxdV8/s1600/Chasing+Lainey+to+the+water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hfNluRvN6LE/T-KBTr62ouI/AAAAAAAABkE/F98gd6bxdV8/s640/Chasing+Lainey+to+the+water.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Running after Lainey at Mill Pond Park in Saline</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E8M7PKdwUa4/T-KBUTl8pNI/AAAAAAAABkM/I9zf3wj6WtQ/s1600/Double+fisting+the+watermelon+blueberry+popsicles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E8M7PKdwUa4/T-KBUTl8pNI/AAAAAAAABkM/I9zf3wj6WtQ/s640/Double+fisting+the+watermelon+blueberry+popsicles.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sampling homemade watermelon blueberry popsicles</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: white;">I've been getting back into sewing again, and of course my current obsession is thinking of sweet things to sew for her. I found a super easy tutorial for pillowcase dresses&nbsp;</span><a href="http://www.themotherhuddle.com/tutorial-fat-quarter-pillow-case-dress/" target="_blank">here</a><span style="background-color: white;">, and modified it based on the fabric I had on hand. I had some scraps left from the project we did for Molly's shower, so I spent probably $4 on this dress total. In about an hour and a half, I had a dress! I didn't take step by step photos, but maybe next time I will since I know more what I'm doing now. &nbsp;I think it turned out pretty cute, but I do have a pretty good lookin' model.</span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bUB0lo52gTY/T-KBU02HLVI/AAAAAAAABkU/9aCL3fWN3ho/s1600/IMG_8153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bUB0lo52gTY/T-KBU02HLVI/AAAAAAAABkU/9aCL3fWN3ho/s640/IMG_8153.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally figured out wearing her own sunglasses is pretty cool&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2axAUWZIf8/T-KBVcEs5qI/AAAAAAAABkc/Z3mSi5QF8tE/s1600/IMG_8154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2axAUWZIf8/T-KBVcEs5qI/AAAAAAAABkc/Z3mSi5QF8tE/s640/IMG_8154.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check it.&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mNfMkP9THtg/T-KBV-q9I0I/AAAAAAAABkk/bQZn3WOidLs/s1600/IMG_8166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mNfMkP9THtg/T-KBV-q9I0I/AAAAAAAABkk/bQZn3WOidLs/s640/IMG_8166.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wearing her dress</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I know, I still have a backlog of posts to type up, but it's not happening tonight. Hope you're all getting through the early summer heat wave!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-16171358256430986512012-06-15T21:26:00.001-04:002012-06-15T21:26:31.817-04:00Father's Day ProjectsI'm working on a few projects for Matt for Father's Day this year, and hopefully I will have enough time tomorrow with Norah to get the second one finished. It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, but rest assured I have been busy! I do have some posts to update and projects to share, so perhaps this weekend I'll take some time to get them together.<br /><br />Until then, here's a quick sneak preview of project #1 - Norah was a peach and totally participated in this better than I thought she would! I think I might redo this shoot every year, and layer the photos over the last year's in the frame, just to have a cool record of how she changes year by year.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ROc7g7Z0fyw/T9vf9j_ZSsI/AAAAAAAABjY/iEexju4xJhw/s1600/IMG_8230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ROc7g7Z0fyw/T9vf9j_ZSsI/AAAAAAAABjY/iEexju4xJhw/s640/IMG_8230.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I just got one letter D and one letter A from the wooden craft section at Michael's, and let her play with them while I snapped some shots. I picked some of my faves, and put them in a triple matted frame. &nbsp;I printed them on our home inkjet printer, so they aren't the best quality...I will have to order better prints this summer.<br /><br />I'll post our other project this weekend once it's complete, and let you know how I feel about the #1 Daddy in this house later this weekend! Hope everyone is set to have a fabulous one!Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2378418388550243541.post-39826355493863540172012-05-22T22:32:00.002-04:002012-05-22T22:33:09.556-04:00Raw Kale Salad with Cranberries, Pecans and ParmesanIn the middle of the work week, I have been finding myself uninspired and unmotivated to create thoughtful meals lately. &nbsp;I love food. I love eating food. But I also really enjoy planning and preparing food for myself and others to enjoy eating. It's just that I've been stuck in a rut of eating the same things lately, and anyone who knows me will know that I get B-O-R-E-D with food very quickly when eating repetitively. <br /><br />So tonight, we made a quick trip to Whole Foods on our way home, and surprisingly they have better prices on some of the produce items we frequently get anyway wherever we shop. &nbsp;We still get most of our mainstream stuff somewhere less pricey, but for good fresh produce we do like going there from time to time.<br /><br />Anyway, tonight I picked up a bunch of "Dinosaur Kale" (Lacinato Kale) which I have never bought before. &nbsp;I am not a stranger to kale, but usually go for the curly variety. From the ever trustworthy Wikipedia:<br /><blockquote class="tr_bq">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">Lacinato kale has dark blue-green leaves, with an "embossed texture"; its taste is described as "slightly sweeter and more delicate&nbsp;... than curly kale."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-4" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1em;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lacinato_kale#cite_note-4" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;"><span>[</span>5<span>]</span></a></sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">&nbsp;Because of its taste, "slightly bitter [and] earthy",</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-5" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1em;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lacinato_kale#cite_note-5" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;"><span>[</span>6<span>]</span></a></sup></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">&nbsp;it has been called "the darling of the culinary world". &nbsp;</span></blockquote><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Dinosaur Kale looks like this:&nbsp;</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.norcalblogs.com/sustainable/assets_c/2012/01/Kale-thumb-440x330-5459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://www.norcalblogs.com/sustainable/assets_c/2012/01/Kale-thumb-440x330-5459.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had no recipe in mind specifically, but wanted to make some sort of raw kale salad. &nbsp;Whole Foods sells one in their deli section already made, which I have had before and is great, but I wanted to try my hand at my own version. Here's what I came up with.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Raw Kale Salad with Dried Cranberries, Pecans, and Parmesan&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">with Lemon Vinaigrette&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 bunch Lacinato Kale ($2.49 at Whole Foods for organic variety)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">juice of 1/2 lemon</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1/4 - 1/2 cup olive oil</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 teaspoon honey or agave nectar</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1/2 cup dried cranberries</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1/2 cup pecans</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1 teaspoon Kosher salt</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">freshly ground pepper to taste</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Tear the kale leaves away from the stems and into small bite sized pieces. Discard the stems. Put into a salad spinner or bowl filled with warm water, and gently "massage" kale for a few minutes. They will begin to soften and wilt ever so slightly. &nbsp;Spin the kale dry.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In a small bowl, whisk together the juice of half of the lemon, 1/4 cup of olive oil, and honey. &nbsp;If too runny, whisk in a little more olive oil until desired consistency.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Season kale with salt and freshly ground pepper to taste - definitely taste it here, because the salt really adds a nice element to salad and will otherwise be a bit flat without it.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sprinkle on cranberries, pecans, and Parmesan, then toss with vinaigrette. &nbsp;Let sit in airtight container in refrigerator a few hours or overnight, and the dressing will absorb into the kale and continue to soften the leaves.&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lJq2dCCoZv4/T7xMJcd9wOI/AAAAAAAABjM/qDh1hTazxo4/s1600/IMG_8041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lJq2dCCoZv4/T7xMJcd9wOI/AAAAAAAABjM/qDh1hTazxo4/s640/IMG_8041.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Tanyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175704547592669553noreply@blogger.com1